


The Travellers

by GillianInOz



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 77,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianInOz/pseuds/GillianInOz
Summary: Sequel to Many Aspects - the Traveller family return home.





	1. On The Journey Home...

_Prologue_

"Merry!" Pippin exclaimed. "There's a baby in here! A hobbit baby!"

Merry rushed over and peered into the basket, surprise on his face. Frodo felt a thrill of pride when he heard the soft cooing sounds Fael was making. He couldn't wait to introduce his son to his cousins.

"A baby!" Merry repeated. He looked up and stared at his two friends. "Where on earth did it come from?"

"He," Sam corrected, drawing a small barrel of ale off the back of the cart.

Pippin looked around the busy camp, smoothing his fair hair down and smiling in anticipation. "Where's his mother?" he asked eagerly.

"Good question," Frodo muttered under his breath.

"Maybe you should sit down," Sam suggested. "It's been a long day."

"He's very small," Merry said curiously, peering into the basket. "Where is his mother?" He looked up suspiciously. "And his father come to that."

Pippin raised his brow. "Is one of you his father?"

"Another good question," Frodo said, accepting a mug from Sam and sitting down with a sigh. "Sit down, lads," he invited. "Sam has quite a story for you."

Sam's hand jerked and foam from Merry's mug hit the grass. "Hey," Merry protested, rescuing his brew.

"Why me?" Sam asked. "They're your cousins, you tell them."

"Is it a secret?" Pippin asked curiously, accepting his own mug. "Because you know I can keep a secret."

Merry, Sam and Frodo all turned to stare at him, mugs halfway to their lips.

"What?" Pippin asked blankly. "I can!"

Frodo shook his head and sipped his drink. "Well, all right," he agreed. "Sam is his father, I suppose there's no doubt about that."

"Absolutely none," Sam nodded.

"Congratulations, Sam!" Pip exclaimed, raising his mug.

"Yes, congratulations," Merry echoed, his gaze traveling from Sam to Frodo and back again, a dubious expression on his face. "So what's the big secret?"

"That I'm his father too?" Frodo said, testing the words to see how they sounded. They sounded a bit odd actually, and it was obvious Merry and Pippin thought so, their eyebrows rose and they shared a glance.

"How?" Merry finally asked. "And also, what?"

"Now I really want to meet his mother," Pippin said enthusiastically.

"Oh just spit it out," Bilbo said grumpily from the back of the cart. "Someone help me down and pour me a drink, will you?"

Merry and Sam lifted the old hobbit down and settled him by the fire with a mug in his hands. "A fine mess you boys make of explanations left to yourself," Bilbo grumbled into his ale. "You should have seen the way they faffed around trying to tell me! As if I didn't notice that big belly Frodo was sporting."

"You thought he was getting plump," Sam accused, while Frodo watched the frowns of confusion on his cousins faces. He couldn't help chuckling. How Bilbo loved to set the cat among the pigeons.

"Nonsense," Bilbo scoffed. "I took one look at him and knew he was pregnant."

"Pregnant!" Pippin exclaimed.

"Yes," Frodo confirmed. "I was pregnant, with Fael." He nodded towards the basket.

"It was an elven spell," Sam elaborated as Pippin stood up and peered back into the basket at Frodo's knee. Merry just sat with his eyes narrowed, looking from Sam to Frodo and back again.

"You had a baby, Frodo?" Pippin asked in amazement. "Why?"

"Because Frodo was dying," Bilbo said bluntly. "And the spell saved his life. How many more reasons do you need?"

"Dying?" Merry exclaimed. He looked at Sam. "You said he was ill in that letter you sent, you never said he was dying!"

"But you're all right now, aren't you Frodo?" Pippin asked anxiously, sitting by Frodo and touching his arm softly. "Having the baby saved your life?"

Yes, Pip," Frodo said affectionately, squeezing his cousin's hand. "I'm fine."

Pippin grinned. "Those elves can do anything!"

"They didn't do it alone," Merry said slowly. "You and Sam made this baby together, Frodo?"

"The spell just made it possible for me to conceive," Frodo confirmed. "Fael is our baby, Sam's and mine." He looked over at Sam, loving the gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Pippin opened his mouth eagerly but at that moment Fael began to cry, his thin wail surprisingly loud in the quiet camp.

"We're late for his feed!" Sam said, shaking his head at their forgetfulness.

"Fael doesn't like to miss a meal," Frodo chuckled, carefully lifting the crying baby from his warm nest. Fael instantly ceased his louder cries but kept grizzling, little fists waving, his pink cheeks red. "There, there," Frodo soothed, lifting him to his shoulder and patting his narrow back.

"He's so wee," Pippin cooed. "Can I hold him, Frodo? Can I feed him?"

"He does have a bottle doesn't he?" Merry asked, panic on his face.

Bilbo sputtered into his mug. "That's something we missed out on," he cackled. "Breast feeding!"

"He has a bottle," Sam confirmed, bringing one over. "It's not heated, Frodo, but it's not cold either."

"Can I?" Pippin beseeched and Frodo carefully put Fael into his arms.

"Hold him close to your chest," Sam advised.

"Support his head." Frodo slipped his hands out from under the baby and Sam handed Pippin the bottle.

"I have held babies before," Pippin protested. "Look, he likes me!"

"He likes milk," Sam corrected, showing Pippin how to hold the bottle correctly. While they fussed over the baby Frodo met Merry's eyes over their heads. His cousin was still frowning when he stood and crossed to Frodo's other side, where he stood and looked into the flames.

"Sam should have told us how ill you were," Merry said quietly.

"He didn't know how bad it was."

Merry turned a sharp look on him. "But you knew?"

"I suspected."

"Why didn't you tell us then?" Merry demanded. "We would have come with you!"

"That's why I didn't tell you," Frodo said quietly as Sam and Pip's attention was drawn to them. "It was bad enough Sam's life was being disrupted. I thought you two deserved a bit of time at home."

"It should have been our decision too, Frodo," Pippin said earnestly. "We've been terribly worried about you."

"You lads stuck together through thick and thin during those adventures of yours, didn't you?" Bilbo said and they all turned to look at him. "If half those stories you tell me are true." He looked at the four of them around the fire. "But when the time came you went your separate ways, because you all had your own jobs to do. Did them all pretty well too, didn't you?"

The four young hobbits glanced at each other and nodded.

"Well, it seems to me that Frodo and Sam had a job to do as well," he finished gruffly. "And a darn fine one they did too! So stop worrying about who should have done what! And pour me another ale!"

Frodo chuckled and Merry and Pip joined in. Shaking his head at the grumpy old hobbit Sam emptied the last of the small barrel into his mug.

"And now I get the dregs," Bilbo muttered, drinking it down. "Well, how about some supper then? Or is it goats milk for all of us?"

"We bought food," Pippin volunteered.

"And I better get those ponies tended to," Merry said, jumping to his feet.

"I'd help you, but..." Pippin nodded at the suckling baby and shrugged.

"Nice one, Pip."

"I'll help." Frodo followed Merry to the tethered ponies and helped unbuckle their saddles while Sam bustled about gathering his cooking pots.

"You must have a hundred questions."

"At least," Merry returned. "But right now I can only think of one." He turned to face Frodo. "Are you happy, Frodo?"

Frodo gave this question the serious attention it merited. It took him about five seconds and then he grinned. "Yes."

Merry just looked at him for a while. "Then the other ninety and nine questions can wait," he finally said, and together they finished their task.

~***~

Frodo stretched his toes and yawned, careful not to disturb Bilbo's snuffling doze. He'd thought sleeping his life away had ended with his pregnancy, but no matter how hard he tried the gentle rocking motion of the cart and the soft sunshine would have him snoring in no time. He peered into Fael's basket, and carefully smoothed the blankets around him again. The hobbit baby hated his feet tucked under covers and spent most of his waking time trying to kick them off. Frodo reflected how glad he was the weather was warming up and soon Fael could have his way.

His hand lingered at Fael's chin and he stroked the smooth skin tenderly, unable to resist the loving touch. He never got tired of touching his baby.

His baby.

Frodo huffed a laugh at how that sounded in his head, his other hand going to his soft belly and pressing ruefully. If it wasn't for this he might have been able to convince himself it had all been some crazy dream. What had Sam called it? Cracked? It was certainly an accusation he'd heard before. Those Baggins under The Hill. Mad, crazy, cracked, those were just some of the opinions expressed by the good drinking hobbits of Hobbiton, and their wives too, come to that.

What would they say now, those good hobbits? What would they have said if they could have seen him a few months ago, round and full of baby, content to be so?

Frodo chuckled again and turned his face to the front of the cart where Sam sat with the reins in his hands, lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't find it within himself to worry about that. His friends and neighbours were his least concern. Sam and Fael were all that mattered now. His love and his son.

Cracked, crazy, mad. And the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Not that he'd always felt that way, not by a long chalk. Certainly not when this all began. Back then he'd still been confused by a lot of things, still haunted by the darkness he'd carried within him for so long. Even when the spell had been cast, even when the darkness was being dispelled from his body he'd found he couldn't dispel it from his heart, not completely.

Frodo recalled how it had been back then, feeling the life come back into him, feeling the sun on his skin after so long in the bitter cold

He'd never told Sam about that cold, not really. About the veil that had seemed to descend between him and the rest of the world after the Ring. How it seemed to muffle sound, suppress taste, distance him from emotion. So maybe even Sam had never really understood what it had been like to feel that veil lifted after the spell was cast. To feel the sun on his skin again.

Frodo leaned back and squinted against the light, smiling a little at the memory of that first reawakening. How joyous those moments had been! His smile faded a little when he remembered that even then he'd managed to wipe the joy from Sam's face. When he'd denied their baby.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for that. Sam just kissed him and said he understood, but Frodo knew he didn't, not really. He'd forgiven Frodo because Sam's heart was so big, so full of love that he would forgive Frodo anything. But he had never really understood.

Frodo shivered a little at the memory. He hated to remember the days of Sam's suffering, how sad his eyes had been when he thought Frodo wasn't looking, how they would linger longingly on the swell of Frodo's belly as if he could not help it. Frodo hated to remember how long he had let that go on before he had finally gathered the strength to fight it.

And Sam had forgiven him.

Sam had laid wondering hands on the swell of their child, such strong hands, such gentle hands. And Sam had wept his heart out on Frodo's breast.

Frodo wished Sam were beside him in the little cart now instead of up front driving it. He longed to wrap his arms around his love, to apologise again with touch and kiss for all the grief he had suffered at Frodo's hands.

He knew he would be trying to make up for it for the rest of his life.

Fael stirred and Frodo turned and gently gathered him up, lifting him and resting him at his shoulder.

"Shh," he soothed, rubbing his cheek against the soft skin for comfort. What was he doing, getting lost in the past again today? He brooded too much these days, dwelled too long on old hurts. Hadn't all this been settled long ago? When the last of the dark poison had been driven from his body? When all that had been left was the darkness in his heart, which he had conquered, was still conquering every day.

Frodo knew he should be remembering the good times now, when the life inside him ceased to be a burden and became a joy. When he stopped being ashamed of carrying a baby and began to feel the pride of it. It was too bright and sunny a day to brood about past mistakes. They were only miles from home, Merry and Pippin rode with them, Bilbo was by his side and he had Fael in his arms.

His baby.

Frodo kissed downy curls, wondering at how he could ever have seen any of this as a burden. Perhaps it had been because he hadn't understood love then, not really.

"Ready for a break?" Sam called over his shoulder. "Looks like we're stopping here for an hour."

Frodo looked around at the sunny patch of forest. He supposed the elves stopped as often as they did just for the hobbits sake. They could probably keep going for the entire journey left to themselves, but still they stopped at noon and evening every day, set up camp and rested.

"I could stretch my legs," Frodo admitted. Bilbo snuffled and snorted beside him.

"One spoonful please!" he said, then opened his eyes. "Time for a cup of tea?" he said hopefully.

Merry and Pip reined in behind them.

"I'll take the baby, Frodo," Pip said eagerly once he'd dismounted, and Frodo handed him over with a grin. Pip was in love.

"Look who's awake then!" Pippin crooned into Fael's yawning face. "Is you hungry den? Yes?" He bent over and kissed a soft rounded cheek. "Oh, you're so sweet!"

"Pippin!" Merry exclaimed in disgust, but Pip just poked his tongue out and turned his back to them. "You realise he only wants to hold the baby to get out of gathering firewood," Merry continued.

"Uncle Merry is a grouch, isn't he, Fael?" Pippin crooned. "Can you say grumpy? Yes?"

Merry shook his head and stomped off and Frodo grinned. "I'll help you," he volunteered, following him to the edge of the wood.

"Don't go far," Sam called after them.

"Yes, mother," Merry said over his shoulder.

"Actually I'm the mother now, Merry,” Frodo joked, bending to pick up a stick, grateful at being able to move so easily again.

"Oh yes, very funny," Merry said, and Frodo saw with surprise that his cousin's brow was stormy.

"It's kind of funny," Frodo said cautiously. "Pip's right, you are grumpy today."

"I'm not grumpy,' Merry said grumpily. He heaved a sigh and his frown faded. "I'm not grumpy," he repeated a little more convincingly. "I'm just trying to get used to all this, that's all."

"Poor Merry," Frodo sympathised, picking up some more sticks. "Starting to come up with more of those questions are you? Well, just you think how I felt! It took me a long time to come to terms with it, so I don't expect you to in a single day."

"You saying you have come to terms with it?" Merry said bluntly. "I've been watching you all morning, those were some pretty dark looks you were throwing around."

Frodo paused, looking at Merry in surprise. "You were watching me?"

Merry shrugged. "I'm worried about you! I've been worried about you for months! And then when we do finally see you again you arrive with this story. Of course I'm worried, of course I've been watching you."

"Oh, Merry," Frodo commiserated.

"And what I've seen hasn't comforted me much." Merry kicked moodily at a stone. "In fact the more I think about it the angrier I get at that Sam Gamgee!"

Frodo felt a shock run through him. "Angry at Sam?" he repeated in surprise. "Why?"

"For taking advantage!" Merry exclaimed. "I always knew he was devoted to you, but I never knew he wanted you so much he'd take advantage of your illness to-"

"Now you wait just a minute!" Frodo interrupted fiercely, dropping his armful of sticks on the ground. "I won't have you saying one word against Sam, do you hear me?"

Merry shook his head, his eyes worried. "You're so close you don't even see it yourself. He's got you wrapped around his little finger, he talked you into that crazy spell, made you have a baby for goodness sake!"

"That's enough!" Frodo said firmly. "You're talking about things you don't understand. And I won't have you say one word against Sam. You have no idea what he's been through, Merry, for me. All for me."

"What he's been through?" Merry said incredulously. "What about that scar you were flashing about last night? Those marks on your belly like silver lines? Looks to me like Sam got away easy!"

Frodo shook his head in exasperation. "Oh, Merry, how can you say that? Because it's all turned out well, all you see is the happy ending. I suppose I can't blame you for not understanding what Sam gave up to love me, when all you seem to see is what he gained."

"You. A baby. Bag End." Merry looked stubborn. "Stop me when I'm wrong."

"Stop." Frodo returned smartly. "Sam didn't want me, he loved me as I loved him, but he wasn't scheming somewhere in a corner to get into my bed! As a matter of fact..." Frodo trailed off, then set his jaw and continued. "As a matter of fact there's someone waiting for him at home now, though he didn't ask her to. I'm not looking forward to her pain when she finds out I've stolen Sam right from under her nose."

Merry gaped at him in disbelief.

"As for Fael, well, Sam couldn't love him more." Frodo breathed a sigh of regret. "He loved him long before I could, and I was carrying him under my heart. But, Merry... There'll be no more babies for Sam." Tears pricked Frodo's eyes and he blinked them away. "If he and I stay together, and I tell you now I will do everything in my power to make sure we will, then Fael will be the only child Sam will ever father. If you think that doesn't weigh heavy with me at times you're wrong."

"Frodo," Merry whispered, his eyes darkening.

"And as to Bag End, that's the silliest accusation of all. Sam's been my heir since the week we got back to the Shire. All I have would have been his if I'd died of my illness. Half of everything I own will be his just as soon as I can arrange it upon our return. So he didn't need to wed me or bed me to get his hands on that."

"Enough, Frodo," Merry exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that Sam was to blame for this."

"Blame doesn't come into it, Merry," Frodo said earnestly. "Truly it doesn't."

"I suppose I have to believe it, if you say so." Merry shrugged. "But the way you're talking about Sam now, Frodo? You had to be with him to make this baby, I understand that, but are you in love with him now? Like a happily ever after kind of love? How did that happen?"

"How does any love happen?" Frodo said reasonably.

"But you've known him forever! How can that turn to love?"

"What better way? Who could I trust more than Sam?" Frodo looked down at his mutilated hand, flexing his fingers absently. "I don't trust so easily any more, Merry. Don't let folk get close." He huffed a small laugh. "Never really have, come to that. But I've always been able to trust him... Of course it's Sam! Who else but Sam?"

"I suppose," Merry said uncertainly. "But, wasn't there another way, Frodo? So you've made the best of it all, you seem happy enough now, but you just looked so sad today, so lost. Was a cure really worth breaking your heart over?"

"Dear Merry," Frodo said, reaching out and hugging his surprised cousin all of a sudden. "You couldn't be more wrong! I'm not just making the best of it. It is the best, and I'm the happiest I've ever been."

Merry still looked doubtful but Frodo only smiled at him fondly. "I think it's only time that will convince you of this, Merry. You'll see. And it's all right to doubt. I know you're just worried about me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" Merry exclaimed. "You're riding back to the Shire with a baby you can't explain to the world, and with Sam Gamgee by your side. Who wouldn't be worried?"

"Traveller," Frodo said simply.

"Huh?"

"Sam Traveller. And I'm Frodo Traveller now, no more mad Baggins, at least there won't be once Bilbo leaves us."

"You've taken new names?" Merry said incredulously. "The same names?"

"And our lad is Fael Traveller. Nice, isn't it?"

Merry was opening and closing his mouth in disbelief. "Are you crazy?" he finally spluttered. "You might have got away with it if you just moved Sam in as your help, made up some story about adopting a hobbit baby. But if you take the same names... Everyone will guess, Frodo. At least about you and Sam."

"Yes," Frodo agreed. "I do know that, Merry. I'm not as blind and foolish as you seem to think. Don't worry about it," he counselled. "We'll sort things out, we're quite a team you know, Sam and I."

He bent down and gathered his sticks back up, wincing just a little now at the tender spot. "And I was in a dark mood this morning, Merry, you were right about that. I brood too much sometimes, get caught up in the past, play the mistakes over in my head. Next time you see me with that expression on my face I'd appreciate a tap on the shoulder to shake me out of it." Frodo chuckled, just a little. "If Sam hadn't had his back to me that's what he would have done. He takes very good care of me, you know?"

"I know," Merry agreed thickly. "I just forgot for a while, that's all." He threw one arm around Frodo and hugged him close to his side. "I guess I have a lot to sort out, don't I?"

"I understand," Frodo said gently. "Like I said, it took me a long time to sort it all out in my head, and I'm the one it was happening to. Just don't get mad at Sam again, all right? It makes me see red."

"I wouldn't dare!" Merry exclaimed in horror. "I'd as soon poke sticks at a hornet's nest!"

Back in camp Sam had a fire going already, pot beginning to boil.

"We gave up on your firewood," he said pointedly as they tossed their sticks by the stones.

"Just enjoying a walk in the woods," Frodo said lightly, sitting down with a small wince.

"All right?" Sam said more quietly and Frodo nodded and smiled.

"Look, Merry!" Pippin exclaimed. "He's smiling at me!" He cooed down into the infant's face. "You know your Uncle Pip, don't you, Fael? Who's a clever boy, den? Hmm?"

"Oh, Pippin," Merry said in disgust. "Hand him over here."

Pippin reluctantly handed him over and Merry laid the baby back on his lap, letting his strong little legs kick happily. He held out his finger and chuckled when Fael stared cross eyed at it for a moment and then grasped it strongly. "You know," Merry said in surprise. "I think he has your nose, Sam."

"D'you think so?" Pippin mused. "I thought he had a bit of a Took nose. And that's a Brandybuck chin, if I ever saw one."

"He's the image of Sam," Frodo interjected.

"But those are your eyes, Frodo," Pippin pointed out.

Merry looked up at him and smiled lopsidedly and after a moment Frodo smiled back.

"He's a Traveller," Sam said firmly. His was the last word.

~***~

"I hope you're in a better mood tonight." Pippin plumped his bedroll down and smoothed it out.

"Who said I was in a bad mood?"

Pippin rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Merry. Possibly it was the stomping around and snapping my head off this morning that gave it away."

"I wasn't in a bad mood," Merry denied. "I was just worried about Frodo."

Pip sat down on his blankets with a tired sigh. "And do you feel better now?" he yawned.

"Frodo and I had a chat," Merry confided. "I see you're taking this all in your stride as usual. Doesn't anything ever bother you? Our friends go away and when they come back they're in love with each other and have a baby! You take things too lightly sometimes, Pip."

"I was as surprised as you," Pippin said reasonably, laying back and tucking his hands under his head. "You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw that little one!" He smiled and then chuckled. "He is cute though, isn't he?"

"That's hardly the point, Pip," Merry said in exasperation. "I was just worried about everything that Frodo went through, that's all." Merry cast his thoughts back to that morning, traces of worry still on his mind. "And I'm not sure he's entirely well, whatever they say. His mood seemed a bit dark this morning."

Pip turned on his side and gazed at his cousin in the firelight. "Which part bothered you, Merry? That Frodo had a baby? That you think he's not well? Or that he and Sam are in love?"

Merry opened and closed his mouth. "How about all of it?" he finally managed. "And why on earth doesn't it all bother you?"

"Well first of all I think Frodo is well. The poison that was killing him is gone, Sam said so and I believe him. If Frodo still has bad memories, well, who doesn't? There's a few things I'd like to forget as well. You?"

Merry shrugged. "I suppose," he allowed.

"And as to the baby, I've got a lot more questions about that to ask Frodo, don't doubt it! But I only have to look at him to see how happy he is. How much in love."

"Maybe that is the part I still have trouble with" Merry admitted softly. "Frodo said it would take time, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to it."

"I'd trust Frodo on this one, if I were you. And trust Sam too! He loves Frodo, that's as plain as can be!"

"I've known Frodo all my life. I've known Sam most of his. Do you blame me if I have trouble believing that the two hobbits I know so well could change so much in such a short time?"

"Oh, Merry," Pippin said sympathetically. "Maybe I do take things too lightly at times, but I think you take them too seriously. Frodo's happy, Sam's happy, I'm happy. Can't you just be happy for them? And if Frodo's not completely healed yet, well, I can't think of a better way for him to finish healing than with the hobbit he loves and their dear little baby back home in the Shire."

"Easy as that, hey? I'd rather take things too seriously than just accept everything at face value," Merry proclaimed, jumping up and walking away from the firelight.

"Merry?" Pippin called, but Merry ignored him and kept walking, arms crossed, hands tucked under them. He was trying to trust his friends, he really was. Frodo's sincere words had reached him that day, but part of him still felt that Frodo had been pressured into this new relationship and was just making the best of it. Perhaps pride had him insisting otherwise?

The camp was quiet and Merry stopped just out of reach of the next circle of fire light. He could see Sam's broad form as he stood by the campfire, tossing twigs idly into the low flames. There was a small tent set up and even as Merry watched he saw Frodo stoop and step out of the tent flap. He crossed to Sam's side and Merry felt a little embarrassed as Sam held out one arm and Frodo curved his body to Sam's sturdy one.

They were in profile and Merry watched them curiously, wondering anew. They had always been friends, never closer than after the quest. But what made that different to them now? How did they know it was love?

Sam murmured something to Frodo and slid one hand down over his belly and Merry flushed in embarrassed distress. Surely Sam wasn't going to grope Frodo out here in the open where anyone could see them?

But then he saw that the gentle hand was resting on the lower slope of Frodo's belly, and that Frodo was nodding and smiling. Merry recalled this was the place Frodo had indicated last night, when he told them how Fael had been born.

Merry flushed with embarrassment again, but this time it was directed at his own evil suspicions. Of course Sam was worried about Frodo, they'd confided about the hard time he'd had at the birth. Of course he wanted to make sure Frodo was all right.

And then they turned their heads and kissed, just for a moment, soft and quick. And Merry saw the way Sam's big hands stroked so gently down Frodo's arms, and how affectionately Frodo curled into his embrace. Then Frodo murmured something and Sam laughed softly, and it was so intensely intimate, so loving, that Merry all at once realised that he was spying on his friends and he turned away.

Head spinning he stumbled back to the fire, relieved to hear Pip's customary gentle snores.

So that was how they knew. That was what had changed. That was how they made that baby together, with soft kisses and tender touch.

Merry lay back on his bedroll and stared at the stars wheeling slowly across the sky above him. To think he'd pitied Frodo his hard choices and trials off at Rivendell with Sam! Now all he could feel was glad for his friends, and shame for his suspicions.

And oddly, a kind of envy.

 

~***~

"You joining me?" Sam asked in surprise as Merry climbed up next to him on the front of the wagon.

"I'm tired of riding." Merry slanted Sam a glance, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the strong calloused hands fondling the reins, remembering how gentle they had been the night before when they touched Frodo.

"You'll be tired of this hard wooden seat soon too," Sam chuckled. "All set back there?" He flicked the reins and clicked, setting the cart into gentle motion.

"Tonight we'll be on the border of the Shire," Bilbo said in satisfaction. "You know I'm quite looking forward to seeing it again."

"And I'm looking forward to closing the front door behind me and knowing our journey is over," Frodo added. He stood up behind Sam and held his shoulders as the wagon began to speed up a little. "Even when we lingered all the way home from Gondor we didn't seem to go this slow."

"Pip and I will ride with you to Hobbiton," Merry said over his shoulder. "We've arranged for Bag End to be cleaned and aired, but we couldn't stock it with food, because we didn't know when you were coming."

"Good Shire food again," Sam said with anticipation.

"Nothing wrong with elven food, if Frodo's plumpness is any indication," Merry joked and winced when Frodo pinched his ear.

"I was eating for two you know!" he exclaimed. "Sam, tell him."

"He was eating for two, Merry," Sam said dutifully.

"You're no help," Frodo groused. "We'll be taking a few long walks about the Shire when we get home, my lad. I'll walk this tummy off."

"I want to check my trees anyway," Sam agreed. "And there'll be plenty of gardening to do to get Bag End back into shape." His hands flexed. "I can't wait."

Merry had to smile at the greedy anticipation in Sam's voice. Everything seemed brighter this morning, especially his mood. Pippin was right. He should just be grateful that his friends were home and safe, and not worry about the details.

"You feelin' better this mornin'?" Sam asked quietly a little while later.

Merry looked at him in surprise. "I'm fine."

Sam shot him a look, brows raised. "It's all right, you know. To be uneasy about all this. We sure were when it all began!"

"I imagine you were!" Merry exclaimed.

"You should have heard what Sam said when we heard about it for the first time," Frodo called up.

"Don't tell him that!" Sam said, ears turning red.

"Tell tell!" Pip called out, moving his pony closer to the cart.

"I bet Frodo has plenty of stories to tell," Merry said slyly. "Might take copious amounts of ale to loosen his tongue. It seems to me a party is in order, once we get home."

"Great idea!" Pip cheered.

"I'm up for that!" Bilbo agreed.

"Let's at least settle in first," Sam interjected.

"No problem, it'll take a few days to plan and get invitations out," Merry said rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"And after all," Pip said reasonably. "We've got to wet the baby's head. Hurrah! Party at Bag End!"

"I suppose that's that then," Sam sighed and Merry laid a hand on his forearm, feeling the solid strength and vitality of him under his fingers.

"A party will make it official, Sam," Merry said firmly. "That the Traveller family have arrived home, and that their family heartily approve."

"That's right," Bilbo called up.

"Welcome to the family, Sam!"

Frodo leaned over his shoulder and smiled. "Let's hope you don't regret it!"

Sam gave the reins a loose shake and turned a knowing smile on them. "Too late now if I did!"

"Much," Frodo agreed with satisfaction.


	2. Gift From The Elves

"Sam! Look!" Frodo exclaimed, and Sam leaned over and peered down at Fael in alarm. "He's smiling!" Sam puffed out a breath of relief then began to grin.

Pippin exchanged a glance with Merry. "He's always smiling."

"Not like this," Sam said in satisfaction. "That's a real smile and no mistake."

They had just passed through Bywater into Hobbiton, and Frodo was riding on the seat next to Sam, cradling Fael high in his arms and pointing out the sights to him.

"He knows he's home," Frodo said proudly, kissing the little nodding head tenderly. "Don't you, Fael? You know you're home."

"I can't believe how many trees are gone," Bilbo said sadly.

"But you can already see it's better than it was," Sam said in excitement, glad all his hard work planting had made a difference. "What a fine year they must have had!"

"Best anyone can ever remember," Merry confirmed from his saddle, pointing into the distance. "The best surprise is yet to come, Sam. Wait till you see where the old Party Tree used to stand."

And when they arrived at the Party Field they all climbed off the cart and ponies and stood staring in wonder. There a large sapling stood, all silver bark and long leaves. Heavy buds were forming and it was clear that soon it would be a riot of blooms. Frodo felt tears in his eyes and when he looked at Sam he saw he was weeping unashamedly.

"Look, Fael," he whispered, holding Fael up. "It's a mallorn tree. It was a gift from the elves, just like you were." And Fael graced the mallorn with one of his real smiles. Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam and they stood together for a long time just staring at the tree they would spend the rest of their lives celebrating under.

"It's like my gaffer said," Sam said thickly. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody no good."

Finally Bilbo called a halt to their wonder, prosaic as usual. "We're a stone's throw from home, lads," he cried. "And I for one could murder a cup of tea."

"I'm starved," Pippin agreed, swinging back up on his pony.

"Next stop home," Frodo said, handing Fael up to Sam and climbing nimbly up beside him. He took Fael back and waved at some hobbits who were staring at them from the road. "Hie, Farmer Cotton!" he hailed happily. "Look, Sam, friendly faces!"

"Nibs! Tom!" Sam greeted, raising his hand in an exuberant wave. "How about the new tree then? Isn't it a wonder!"

"Sam!" Nibs yelled, waving back in excitement.

"We wondered when you'd be back to see its progress," Farmer Cotton said with a wide grin. He took in the whole party and doffed his hat respectfully. "Well, if it isn't a whole herd of traveller's coming home again! Mister Bilbo, sir, it's good to see you!"

"Good to see you too!" Bilbo called, waving grandly from his perch in the cart.

"Welcome home!" Tom called as they rattled by and Frodo smiled and nodded, aware of their wondering curious eyes on them. They must make quite a sight, he thought, in their elven cart piled with their goods and Bilbo in his chair. Not to mention him riding up front with a tiny baby in his arms. He held Fael up again as they trundled around the bend, and there before them was Bag End, drowsing in the noon day heat, looking not that much different from the first time he'd left it, years before now.

"Home," Bilbo said in satisfaction, and Frodo cuddled Fael close and whispered in his little pointed ear.

"Home."

~***~

"There's a ham hanging in the first pantry," Pippin called out. "And some preserves and pickles and such. So we won't starve."

"But the second pantry is bare," Frodo said in dismay. "I've never seen such a sad sight."

"We can scratch a quick meal now," Sam agreed. "But we'll need to stock up soon."

They assembled a finer meal than they thought they'd could with what they had available, and they made short work of it all, wiping plates clean with the last of the bread they'd purchased from the farmer by the bridge. They had to settle for tea without milk, for Fael's was already mixed with the special powder from Nestadren, and Frodo would not waste it.

"I reckon a scouting party is in order," Merry said firmly. "Mrs. Hill will have some pies to sell us, I'm sure."

"And the Cottons are bound to have some eggs and cream and cheese," Sam said, rubbing his hands together. "Good idea."

"We'll go, Sam," Merry offered. "You need to get everyone settled in with their bags and baggage. I could do with stretching my legs after that ride. Pip?"

"Aye, although I'd rather find a sunny patch and have a nap," Pippin said with a stretch.

"See how soft he's gotten!" Merry exclaimed. "You'd think he'd never been adventuring at all. We'll take the ponies to Farmer Cotton, Sam, and see if he'll stable them for us."

Sam nodded and stood wearily. "Let's get this cart emptied then."

~***~

Frodo lay Fael in his basket, stroking the side of his face and down his chin as he always did.

"Maybe I should just go see him myself, this first time," Sam said nervously.

Frodo raised one brow. "Sam," he chided. "You've been longing to introduce your son to your father for months."

"But what am I going to say to him?" Sam burst out. "There's so much to tell him all at once, and I don't think he's going to understand or like most of it!"

"Then start with something he can understand and will like," Frodo said firmly. "There's plenty of time for the rest." He pushed the basket into Sam's hands. "And before he finds out all the rest see if he'll make us a crib, will you?"

"You mean before he finds out that I've changed my name, that we're in love with each other and I'm not moving home?" Sam said bluntly, accepting the basket and tucking one sturdy arm through its handle.

"Yes." Frodo stared him down for a moment and then they both began to chuckle.

"Well, if he won't make us a crib I'll do it myself," Sam said.

Frodo raised both brows this time, then nodded. "Wonderful," he managed.

Sam cast him a suspicious look but Frodo determinedly kept his smile in place. He patted Sam on the shoulder and saw him out the door.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, lad," Bilbo said from his seat at the table. "But didn't Sam give you a carved footstool for his birthday once?"

Frodo sat down with a sigh and reached for his teacup. "Yes, it was lovely, it had acorns and leaves carved on it."

"Hmm, yes," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "Yes, the carving was nice, I recall. But I'm remembering the first time you put your feet up on it."

"I know." Frodo said gloomily. "Two of the legs fell off."

Bilbo snorted into his cup. "Still, lad, you can console yourself with the thought that cribs don't generally have legs."

"They may if Sam is making them," Frodo groaned. Then he chuckled. "What does console me is that there are some things Sam can't do. It's quite comforting actually."

"Ah yes," Bilbo said into his tea. "Perfect Sam."

Now it was Frodo's turn to cast a suspicious look and Bilbo's to look innocent.

"What?" the old hobbit said.

Frodo just shook his head, predicting that the next few months would be interesting to say the least.

~***~

Despite Sam's nervousness at the thought of facing his father he couldn't help but feel his heart lifting as he walked down the road to number three. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and he could see from here that the Shire was beginning to look more like its old self than ever. He looked down at Fael asleep in his basket and couldn't help grinning. That was good Shire sunlight glowing on his pink face, and even as Sam watched his son kicked his covers off his strong little legs and opened his wide blue eyes.

"There's my sleepy lad," Sam chuckled, sitting down on the grass verge with a bump and lifting Fael out. He sat the baby on his knee, strong hands around his body, smiling as Fael lifted his nodding head all by himself. "Look around you, Fael," he said to sleepy eyes. "This is your home. Down this road your dad used to run every day, following after his dad."

Fael yawned widely, little fists waving at his father's deep voice.

"Now you've got to understand my gaffer," Sam told his son thoughtfully. "He's as tough an old hobbit as you'll ever meet. Knows what's what, knows what's right, knows what's wrong with the world and knows how to fix it. That might seem to you, my lad, a tough thing to live up to."

Fael watched his father's face with his fixed gaze and cooed to show his appreciation of the attention.

"But for all his high standards and big lectures you remember one thing. You're his family, Fael. He'll not forget it believe me. And when things get tough and you need anything, you run to your granddad, and he'll see you right." Sam lifted his son and kissed his little pink cheek, then tucked him against his shoulder.

"So you pay him no never mind if he blusters a bit today," Sam counselled, standing up with the empty basket under his arm. "It just means he's been worried about me, same as I would be about you if you ever took it into your head to run off to see the elves without me."

Sam stopped and looked down into Fael's wide eyes. "Don't do that, all right?" He stroked the narrow little back, loving the tiny little breaths and the feel of that strong heart beating under his fingers. "I'll make sure you don't." Sam decided.

Hamfast Gamgee was sitting by his front gate, pipe smoke wreathed around his head, old eyes half shut against the afternoon sun. Sam slowed as he approached, a thousand memories from the past crowding him at the sight. He couldn't help noticing how white his dad's hair was, how lined and worn his old hand looked gripping his pipe. It had been a hard few years for the old hobbit, losing his home and then having to remake it again. Sam felt a pang of guilt at having had to desert him during those times, but Fael's warmth against his shoulder reminded him why it had been necessary.

Both times.

"Da," he called out softly and Ham straightened with a start. "Just restin' my eyes!" he snapped, and then focused on Sam by the gate.

"Sam!" he cried gladly, getting stiffly to his feet. Then he frowned and sat back down with a bump. "Bout time you showed up," he growled. "Last on your list for visiting was I?"

Sam grinned, delighted that his dad's true feelings had shown, even for just a moment. "Good to see you too, da."

"Hmph," the gaffer said doubtfully. He frowned and squinted at Sam. "Is this that baby I've been hearing about all day?"

"I see the gossip has raced before me," Sam said, cradling Fael back in one arm and pushing through the gate into the front yard. "I wanted to introduce you to my son before you got to hear about him from anyone else."

Hamfast gaped at him in surprise. "Your son?" He stood again and frowned down at the bundle in Sam's arms. Fael's blue blanket had been kicked away again and his eyes were closed, but his little mouth was pursed and sucking gently as he dozed. "I heard tell it was Mr. Frodo cradling him to his breast on that cart you rode in on."

Sam chuckled that the speed of Shire gossip hadn't changed at any rate. "It was," he confirmed. "And when we have the time and a good few ales have been sunk I'll tell you a lot more on the subject. But for now, da, this is Fael. Your grandson."

Ham sat back on the bench in surprise, his strong old hands reaching out as Sam laid the dozing hobbit into his arms.

"Well," the gaffer blustered, then wound down, as if unable to think of anything to say. "Well..." He touched one finger to a smooth cheek in wonder.

Sam sat by his father, heart full in his chest. He couldn't have wished for a better homecoming.

"Well that's your lad all right," Ham said huskily, then cleared his throat. "That's a Gamgee face and no doubt."

Chuckling, Sam looked over his dad's shoulder. "So some as said," he agreed.

Hamfast sniffed and looked at his son sternly. "And where's his mother then? If it wasn't for these good strong hobbit feet on the lad I'd take him for a half elf babe, golden curls and all."

"He's not half elven, da. But he does owe his life to the elves and no mistake." Sam smiled, finding this a lot easier now it came down to it. "Fael was a gift from the elves, da. He was made to save Mr. Frodo's life, and he did it too, before he was even born."

The gaffer frowned. "How did he do that?"

Sam shook his head. "It's hard to explain, da, although I will try, I promise. Later, hmm?"

Hamfast narrowed his eyes at Sam thoughtfully. "You've got secrets in your eyes, boy," he accused. "And that's a first. When have you ever kept secrets from your old gaffer?"

"When they're not all my secrets to keep," Sam said firmly.

"Hmm," Ham said again. He looked down at Fael laying so trustingly in his arms and the baby snuffled and yawned, big blue eyes opening and blinking, large lashes sweeping soft cheeks. The gaffer drew in a surprised breath, eyes flicking to Sam and back to Fael. "Well look at you," Ham whispered. "Where did you get those big blue eyes? Fael is it? Not a bad name if it is a bit elfish."

Ham turned and pinned Sam in place with his gaze. "Secrets you may keep, but you've never been able to lie to me, Samwise. This is truly your son?"

Sam met his father's gaze clearly. "Yes, da. I'm his father."

A shaking finger touched Fael's cheek again and a small hand came up and reached for it. Ham let him grab it and huffed a small laugh as the strong grip drew the blunt finger to rosebud lips. "He sure does have a look of you about him," Ham mused quietly. "Gift from the elves, you say? Well, you always did have your head in the clouds about them folk." He turned to Sam again. "Better take him, I reckon I need a smoke."

Sam gathered Fael up while Ham fumbled for his pipe, muttering under his breath to find it gone out. The old hobbit knocked it against the side of the stone bench.

"And Mr. Frodo then, he's all well?"

Sam smiled widely. "Yes, da," Sam said proudly. "Frodo's cured."

"Then you done what you set out to do, Sam." Hamfast lit his pipe and took a deep draw. "I was going to tell you your room's all ready and waiting for you, but I reckon you've got other ideas?"

Sam wondered what those old eyes were seeing exactly.

"I'll be staying at Bag End," he confirmed.

"Aye, thought so." Ham puffed contentedly for a few minutes. "Looks like you and I have a lot of things to discuss, Sam. But I don't reckon now's the time, with that wide eyed lad between us."

"No, da," Sam said, swallowing.

"So you settle in back there at Bag End, and send all my best to Mr. Frodo, and Mr. Bilbo too, if what I hear is right and he come riding back in that cart you was drivin'."

"He did, da, and I will."

"And when you're all done settlin' you come back and see me and we'll have that good long chat I reckon I'm owed."

And feeling like he was just a lad again himself, Sam turned to the gate. Then he paused and turned back.

"Oh, da," he said nervously. "We, um, I was wondering if you'd have time to make Fael a crib? He's growing out of his basket."

"You've got my grandson sleeping in a basket?" Ham demanded.

"It's all he's needed so far. If you don't have time I can make one myself-"

"No," Ham said hastily. "I have time. It'll be my gift to him. Maybe you could do the carvin', Sam? My old hands aren't up to fancy work."

Sam frowned, then shrugged. "I suppose I could," he allowed, then smiled at his dad. "Thanks, da."

"You take care of yourself, Sam," Ham ordered. "And that babe."

~***~

The kettle was boiling on the hob and supper was laid out so Frodo decided to take a look around his study. Sam found him muttering over his book shelves.

"I'm never going to get this lot straight," he was complaining to himself.

Sam leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, making him jump.

"That was quick!" Frodo exclaimed. He peeked into Fael's basket. "Still asleep?"

"He woke once or twice," Sam said, sitting with a sigh. "Long enough to flash them handsome eyes of his at my dad."

"So how did it go then?"

"Better than I thought," Sam said hopefully, laying the basket on the desk and tucking Fael's blanket back around his legs. "But I think I'm in for some tough questions later."

"Rather you than me," Frodo said fervently, sitting down by Sam on the narrow seat, making him chuckle. "And how did he like his new grandson?"

Sam smiled reminiscently. "I think he likes him just fine." He wrapped one arm around him and Frodo curled closer. "I was that proud, Frodo, to see my dad holding him in his arms."

Frodo didn't resist the urge to kiss Sam's neck fondly.

Sam's eyes twinkled. "Did I thank you yet? For giving me a son?"

Frodo tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know, I'm not sure you did."

Sam's strong fingers took his chin and Frodo shivered in anticipation as Sam's eyes creased with his gentle smile. "Thank you," he whispered, and then he was gently touching his lips to Frodo's. Frodo reached up and cupped his firm jaw.

As long as he lived he would never stop being amazed by how Sam's touch could fill his heart and stir his blood. How strong hands that touched him so gently left fire in their wake. Sam's firm lips curved and just the tip of his tongue stroked Frodo's and sobbing in a breath Frodo cupped both hands around Sam's head and parted his lips, slanting his head and moaning in his throat as Sam pressed deeper.

"Oh, Sam," he whispered when their lips parted a little. "I've missed this."

"It has been a long trip," Sam said huskily, calloused hand sliding along Frodo's jaw line, thumb touching slightly swollen lips.

Frodo cupped the hand at his jaw and then drew it down, unresisting to lay over the soft curve of his belly.

"All healed?" Sam whispered in his ear, and just the way he asked sent another shiver down Frodo's skin. He could only nod. "And tonight we have our own wide bed and a stout door we can lock."

There was a blush climbing Frodo's face, he could feel it but he couldn't stop it. Sam chuckled in delight and kissed one pointed ear, nibbling on it deliciously and causing Frodo to squirm. "I love to make you blush."

"I bet I can make you blush too," Frodo said breathlessly.

"I bet you can too." Sam swung him around and bent him back over his arm and Frodo couldn't help the cry of delight as the world tilted and Sam attacked his neck with his lips, pressing a suckling kiss to the pulse.

"I think we better come back later," a sibilant whisper from outside the door sounded and Sam froze.

"Be quiet, Pip!" another louder whisper rung out. "You'll embarrass them!"

"Me?" Pippin demanded hotly and Frodo couldn't help giggling at Sam's flushed ears. The sturdy hobbit groaned and buried his face in Frodo's neck again, this time to muffle his laughter.

"When will we be alone?" His groan was heartfelt.

Frodo struggled free and stood, making sure his collar was pulled around his throat. "About thirty-three years," he predicted airily, and then opened the door.

Merry and Pippin stood outside toe to toe, fingers pointing accusingly at each other.

"Oh, Frodo, good," Pip said, looking over with a smile. "We didn't want to disturb you."

"You already disturbed them," Merry grumbled behind him.

"There was nothing to disturb," Sam said firmly, pushing past Frodo with Fael's basket under his arm. "It's time to feed the baby."

"I'll do it, Sam," Pippin volunteered, trotting after him eagerly. "That's why I was coming, I have his milk all warmed."

Merry shrugged. "Sorry, Frodo," he said apologetically.

"It's all right,' Frodo grinned. "It was just a warm up for tonight anyway." And he walked away chuckling at the knowledge that he could make Merry blush at least.

~***~

"So Mrs. Hill said she'd be glad to do for you again, Frodo, when it comes to baking, if that's what you want." Merry munched a slice of egg and bacon pie appreciatively. "I must say, she's a fine cook."

Pippin opened his mouth and Merry sighed resignedly and popped a forkful into the waiting hobbit's mouth.

"Mmm," Pip agreed. "Quite nice."

"Why do I have to feed you?" Merry demanded to know.

"Because I'm feeding Fael," Pippin said, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Fael stared at him intently, little hands already trying to reach for the bottle he was suckling on.

"Can't you wait and eat after?"

Pippin gave him an incredulous look and opened his mouth again. Merry gave in and forked over another bite.

"I could do some of the cooking," Bilbo volunteered. "I still have that poppy seed cake recipe you like, Frodo."

"No one makes it like you do, Bilbo," Frodo said in delight. "But I'll still buy Mrs. Hill's baked goods when she has them to sell. I want to help Sam in the garden and Fael needs taking care of, so it'll save us time."

"How much trouble can Fael be? He only sleeps and eats," Merry pointed out. "Rather like Pip actually."

"I've noticed you've avoided the pleasure of a nappy change so far, haven't you, Merry?" Sam pointed a finger to the laundry down the hall. "We're not among the elves now where everything is done for us."

"At least I'm being helpful," Pippin said piously. "Hey!" he objected when his intended mouthful detoured to Merry's mouth instead.

Frodo looked around the table at his chatting family and couldn't help the joy that welled up inside him. All the lonely years and dark times were melting away like ice in the sun, and suddenly he had everything he had ever wanted, without even knowing he had wanted it.

"You can do the dishes then," Merry proclaimed. "Since you're being so helpful."

"And you can learn how to change a nappy," Sam interjected with a grin and Merry's mouth turned down.

"Let's go sit under the stars, lad, hmm?" Bilbo invited. "It's been a long time since we sat together out on our seat."

Frodo took Bilbo's arm and helped him up from the chair, feeling the frailty of the old bones under his hand. But the bleary old eyes still had their snap of intelligence, and there was strength enough left in his legs to make it to the old stone bench that overlooked the fields.

"It's good to be home," Frodo sighed and Bilbo just smiled and nodded. They chatted for a while about the changes to the Shire, and within minutes he was snoring gently. Frodo sat contentedly with his arm around his uncle, staring up at the stars over his homeland.

"Napping again?" Merry whispered, and Frodo smiled over his shoulder and made room for his cousin's warmth on the bench next to him. "Wish I'd thought of that. Sam's a tyrant."

"Made you change the nappy after all did he?" Frodo chuckled.

"I changed my mind about fatherhood pretty quick, I can tell you," Merry confirmed with a shudder. "Else I'll marry a lass who knows wench's work when she see it."

"Good luck with that," Frodo raised a skeptical brow and Merry snorted.

They sat in silence for a while, hearing the clank of dishes from the kitchen, and a scrap of song from Pippin as he worked. Something smashed and Frodo winced.

"It's good to have you home, Frodo," Merry said at last. He wrapped his arm around Frodo's shoulders. "In case I haven't said it before, we missed you!"

"We missed you too,' Frodo said softly. "There were times I longed for your advice and counsel, Merry. Your good sense." Frodo sighed. "I made some foolish mistakes. Things I'll never be able to take back."

"You had some hard choices," Merry said huskily. "But for what it's worth I think you made the right ones in the end."

Frodo looked at him gratefully. "Do you?"

Merry nodded. "If you're happy, Frodo. What else really matters?"

"Making Sam happy," Frodo said simply.

Merry gave him an exasperated look. "Sam's as happy as he can be," he chided. "And you two deserve each other! He's worrying about you all the time and you about him. However did you both manage on your own? It's a wonder you didn't self-sacrifice your way right out of each other's lives!"

"We almost did," Frodo said sombrely, then he shook himself and smiled. "I told you we needed your good sense, Merry! You'd have seen the way we were pussy footing around one another and banged our heads together."

"That's what friends are for," Merry confirmed, his eyes a little anxious as he studied Frodo in the moonlight.

Frodo laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm all right," he said softly. "I've yet to forgive myself is all, for some of the things I've done. I'll sort through it."

"Don't keep it to yourself,' Merry advised and Frodo looked away, not wanting his cousin to see what might be in his eyes. There were plenty of things about those days in Rivendell he was keeping to himself, things he had never told Sam and never would. The poison of his body might have been cured, but the darkness in his heart wasn't conquered quite yet.

"I mean it, Frodo," Merry insisted. "You want to make Sam happy? Well the last thing he'd want is for you to worry yourself over the past. Or the things that might have been either."

Frodo frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about Sam not fathering any more children."

"Yes?"

"What about you, Frodo? There'll be no more children for you either, if you and Sam stay together."

"Me?" Frodo half laughed.

"Yes, you," Merry insisted. "You might have met a nice lass, now you're well, and settled down to father a brood of nippers. Doesn't that lost future worry you?"

Frodo shrugged, huffing out a thoughtful breath. "I honestly never thought about it," he admitted. "I never even thought about a future until we made Fael, and after that all I thought about was Sam."

"I wonder if Sam ever worries about what you might have missed out on," Merry pondered thoughtfully. "Being with him."

Frodo shook his head. "I never thought about that either."

"Then it's a good reason to do as Merry suggests," Bilbo said from under arm. "And talk to each other!" Then he yawned widely. "Time I was in bed." He shot Frodo a stern glance. "It's just as well I came home with you, lad. Otherwise who knows what tangles you'd get your head into?"

"Born worrier," Merry pronounced and Bilbo nodded sagely.

Frodo groaned as his two cousins nodded at each other in satisfaction. Now they were ganging up on him!

"Don't worry, Frodo," Merry told him as they helped Bilbo into the house, one on each side. "We'll get the pair of you sorted out, won't we Bilbo?"

"But we are sorted out," Frodo protested. They paid him no mind and he stood in the hall and watched them make their way to Bilbo's bedroom.

"And to think I was glad to have family around me," Frodo muttered.

"I'm up for a drink!" Pippin called down the hall. "Who'll join me?"

"Not I," Sam said from behind him. "And keep your voice down, I'd like a few hours rest before that babe starts frettin' again."

"And it's been a long day," Merry called quietly from Bilbo's room. "Come and help me sort out Bilbo's things, Pip, then I'm off to my rest."

"You're all weaklings!" Pip exclaimed. He looked across the hall pathetically. "You'll join me in a drink, won't you, Frodo?"

Aware of Sam's knowing gaze on him Frodo fought down a blush. "Sorry, Pip," he said breathlessly. "I need a wash and then I'm away. Night all!"

Merry winked over Pip's crestfallen shoulder at him as he walked past and Frodo suppressed a grin and hurried down the hall. He had a few things he wanted to take care of before bed, and washing was just one of them.

~***~

Sam wasn't in bed when Frodo tentatively opened the door into their room. He was standing by the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Sam?" Frodo watched as Sam turned and looked at him. He was wearing his nightshirt, but his hands were gripping each other and his eyes darted back to the window shyly.

Frodo crossed the room and stood behind him, letting one hand rest on a broad shoulder. "Nervous?" he whispered.

Sam groaned and curved an arm around his waist. "I'm a darn fool."

"It has been a long time," Frodo said in understanding.

"I- I feel a bit out of place, if I'm honest," Sam admitted softly. "Here in your fine bedroom."

Frodo looked around his room in confusion. "It's not as fine as any room in Rivendell."

"But it's your room," Sam said, his shoulders twitching. "And up till now the only time I've seen it has been from outside this window looking in."

"Ah," Frodo murmured, curving a bit closer. "That's not entirely true."

Sam slanted him a glance. "What?"

"You don't remember?" Frodo sighed. "The first time we shared a bed and you don't remember. I'm hurt."

Now Sam was facing him, a frown on his brow. "Shared a bed?"

Frodo pulled away and sat down on the edge of his big bed, leaning back and smiling gently at Sam. "It was a long time ago," he allowed.

Sam titled his head an looked suspicious, but he joined him on the bed anyway. "We never shared this bed," he said with certainty.

"You were nine years old,' Frodo told him. "And I'd only been here in Bag End a few months. I came down with a cold, do you remember?"

Sam's eyes blinked and then grew far away. "Mr. Bilbo was teaching me to read."

"And in the afternoon you were outside that window there, and I was tucked up in this bed."

"I remember chatting to you through the window when you were poorly."

"Telling me the story Bilbo had been letting you read that morning,' Frodo smiled gently. "Next thing I knew you were over the window sill and sitting by me on the bed, finishing the story."

Sam blushed and covered his face with one hand. "I was a cheeky little beggar," he groaned.

"I was charmed and delighted," Frodo corrected. "You told me the whole story and then curled up and went to sleep, right here." Frodo stroked the warm coverlet gently.

"I don't even remember that!"

"Because Bilbo came in to check on me and found you curled up like a field mouse." Frodo chuckled. "And he carried you back into the garden and put you into your dad's arms."

Sam shook his head. "He never said a word." He slanted Frodo a soft glance. "Even then I was drawn to you."

Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam's broad shoulders. "You were always so kind to me," he recalled. "When a lot of folks around here were still suspicious of this stranger from Buckland."

"My dad told me to take care of you," Sam told him, nodding when Frodo looked at him in surprise. "He did."

"I wonder if he's ever regretted that." Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder. "It makes me smile to recall how sweet you were as a youngster. I hope Fael grows up with your kind heart."

"I was thinking today, how it must have been for my dad, me taking off like that. How I'd feel if it was our lad running off to face danger and who knows what."

Frodo shivered at the thought. "He's not going anywhere without us," he said firmly.

Sam stroked Frodo's hair and he sighed pleasurably, loving the feel of strong fingers massaging his scalp.

"The baby will sleep for hours," Sam whispered and Frodo smiled at the half hopeful promise.

"I thought you didn't feel comfortable in my room," Frodo teased.

"It's our room now,' Sam corrected. "Our room, our bed, our son in his basket."

Frodo lay back, hands over his head, joy in his heart. "In our home."

Sam leaned over him, one arm over his body, lips curved gently. "I've dreamed of this for so long," he confided. "So why do I feel like this is the first time I've kissed you?"

"You'll just have to learn me all over again, won't you?" Frodo invited.

"I could do that," Sam mused, running one finger over his cheek. Frodo half closed his eyes in pleasure at the sure touch. He watched as Sam studied his face, wondering what he saw in the dim lamp light. Did Sam think him beautiful? He'd always felt it a foolish question to ask, and he wondered what Sam would say if he told him how beautiful his dear face was to Frodo.

He lifted a heavy hand and cupped Sam's cheek, loving the way it curved when he smiled, fingers stroking the warm laugh lines that creased the corners of his eyes. Sam turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm, tongue flickering out and stroking him teasingly, sending another shiver down Frodo's spine. It had been a long time, and all of a sudden Frodo grew tired of this leisurely touching, he slid his hand to Sam's nape and tugged him down, lifting his head and meeting his lips halfway.

And then Sam was groaning in his throat, deepening the kiss and pushing Frodo's head back down into the soft mattress. Frodo opened his mouth wide and invited Sam in, never tiring of the incredible intimacy of this act.

"Frodo," Sam whispered, pulling his lips away reluctantly and then pressing another hard kiss to his softly swollen lips as if he could not resist. He slid a hand down the fine lawn of Frodo's nightshirt and came to rest just inches above his firmness. Sam smoothed the soft fabric over Frodo's flushed skin, making him squirm in pleasure. "Are you sure it's all right?" Sam whispered. "I don't want to hurt you, love, but it's been so long I'm afraid I'll be too rough."

Frodo lay his hand over Sam's and pressed it firmly, meeting passion clouded eyes with his own. "It's fine," he whispered sincerely. Then he squeezed Sam's fingers and pushed, unable to resist sliding Sam's hand down that few inches. He groaned as his firmness was covered, chest panting at the warmth and pressure.

Sam kept their eyes locked together as he wrapped his wide hand around Frodo's flesh right through the fabric, fondling it gently while Frodo gripped his wrist and sighed his pleasure. The wet head made the cloth transparent and Sam's broad thumb rubbed the fabric over it, tracing around the flared head, sliding up and down the split plum.

"Sam," Frodo sobbed, body jerking as Sam squeezed a little tighter, fingers sliding down the shaft and then back up again. Frodo caught his wrist. "Together," he begged and Sam smiled tenderly, pressing his thumb for a moment more before sliding his damp hand back up to Frodo's chest, laying his hand over the fast beating heart.

"Climb into bed beside me, love," Sam whispered.

Frodo let Sam pull him up by one hand and they pulled the covers back and snuggled down, reaching out eagerly and coming back together, mouths meeting, hands cupping each other's faces.

"This will be quick," Sam groaned apologetically, pressing Frodo back into the bed and tugging his damp nightshirt up. "It's been too long, love."

Frodo nodded breathlessly, reaching for Sam's nightshirt and pulling at it eagerly. He was painfully hard now and he could feel Sam against his belly, the impossibly soft head of his firmness pressing greedily against his skin, hot wetness smearing him.

"Hurry, Sam," he begged, heart pounding against the wall of his chest, breath sawing. Passion was drowning him and he wrapped his arms around Sam's body as his lover aligned their bodies, his head pressing back into the pillow as the first pressure of Sam's sliding thrusts drove him down.

He held on for dear life, arching upwards, lips seeking Sam's open panting mouth, locking on and drinking deep as Sam set the pace, impossibly fast, unbelievably good. Frodo slid his hand down Sam's broad back and in between their bodies, age-old instinct and brand new experience sending his seeking hand to their duelling hardness. He gripped both shafts and squeezed them together, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure from Sam and a jolt of white hot heat down his own spine.

"Love," Sam panted, his own hand joining Frodo's as they thrust against one another and through that tight channel.

Passion spilled and they sobbed and moaned in unison as they shook against one another, wet heat spurting, strong hands gentling, hard thrusts softening into a gentle glide.

"I told you it would be quick," Sam panted, shifting his weight a little to one side and sliding his hand over Frodo's seed slick belly. "Are you all right?"

Frodo could only smile and nod, passion simmering his skin, the feel of Sam's callused hand spreading slickness over his skin sending jagged spurts of pleasure through his satiated body.

"I loved your round belly," Sam confided, smoothing his hand over Frodo's skin. "But I sure missed doing that!"

Satiated as he was Frodo couldn't resist the thrill of returning passion and pride Sam's contented words shot through him. He covered Sam's broad hand with his own and wrapped his other hand around Sam's neck, bringing his head down and whispering in his ear. "There's something else I've missed." he whispered and Sam's body jerked a little as Frodo touched the tip of his tongue to Sam's pointed ear.

Then Frodo was leaning up and guiding his hand down and Sam groaned low in his throat, body twitching. "Give me a chance to catch my breath!" he puffed, then gasped as Frodo slid his hand down past his half hardness to that secret place between his legs.

Frodo smiled in delight as Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed passionately as his fingers pressed against slick oil.

"Never mind," Sam growled, and Frodo only had time to huff a laugh before he was being tackled back onto the bed once more.

~***~

The lights were off and the room was quiet and Merry could feel that first delicious slide into well earned rest.

"Merry?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you ever wonder... I mean... Frodo and Sam."

"No, Pip," Merry said firmly. "I do not wonder."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Pippin defended.

Merry sighed. "I know exactly what you were going to say. You wonder what they do in bed together."

"I never would have said that!" Pippin exclaimed, scandalised.

Merry rolled over and peered at him through the darkness. "You wouldn't?"

"No," Pip huffed. "I was wondering if you ever wondered what they do in bed together."

"Pippin!" Merry shook is head and closed his eyes determinedly.

"I can't help it. I just can't picture it, you know? Frodo and Sam. They're so different for one thing."

Merry opened his eyes again and looked up at the dark ceiling. "I suppose they are."

"Course they are! I think of Sam and I picture him up to his elbows in dirt and loving every second of it. Coaxing his plants along and just as delighted by a petunia as a potato."

Merry smiled fondly at the accurate description.

"Then I think of Frodo and it's all books and daydreams and inky fingers from scribbling all day."

"He's a scholar all right."

"So then I try to picture them together..."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Merry demanded. "What does it matter about gardens and books when you're talking about bed?"

"But they just don't seem to... fit. In my head."

"Your head is the least of their worries," Merry retorted. He recalled those moments by the campfire when he'd watched Frodo and Sam in each other's arms. The tenderness of touch and kiss. "They love each other now," he said firmly. "I can't say I'm that used to the idea myself yet, but they do. And when people love each other they just find a way to make it work, I suppose."

"I suppose,' Pippin allowed.

Merry closed his eyes again and sighed into his pillow.

"Merry?"

"What?"

"Frodo and Sam aside..."

"Yes, Pip?"

"How do two lads... you know?"

Merry groaned and rolled over on his back again. "How should I know?" he demanded. "Do I look like an expert? Now can we get to sleep, or do you want to go and listen by their door for any clues?"

"No need to be rude," Pippin said huffily. "I think it's a perfectly natural and normal question to ask in the circumstances."

Merry sighed. "I suppose it is."

"Now kissing I get," Pippin went on conversationally. "I quite like kissing myself."

"Kissed a lot have you?"

"My share," Pip said smugly. "But after kissing frankly I'm lost. Because nothing else I've done seems to match up when the other fellow is a... well, a fellow. No... you know." He made a shape in the dark with his hands that Merry was fervently glad he couldn't see.

Merry rolled his eyes. "You realise Frodo would never forgive us for talking about him behind his back like this?"

"Nonsense," Pip scoffed. "If he wants to live openly with Sam he'd better get used to rude speculation."

"From his own family?"

"Come on, Merry," Pippin coaxed. "You do know, don't you?"

"No more than common sense would tell you if you had a whit of it," Merry retorted. "It's all hands and mouths, Pip, all right? If you'd ever really been with a lass then you'd know there's an awful lot you can do with just hands and mouths that feels as good as it gets. Matter of fact before a lad and a lass are wed they're a lot smarter if they stick with hands and mouths."

"Why?" Pippin asked in fascination.

"So they don't end up with their own bundle of joy, you ass! And a pitchfork in their back at their wedding. I thought I told you all this stuff years ago."

"Oh," Pippin mused. Then his eyes opened wider. "Oh! That stuff!" Pippin mused silently for a moments. "Ohhh," he suddenly exclaimed. "Hands and mouths! I get it!"

"Thank goodness!"

"Right, yes," Pippin said thoughtfully. "I see how that would work."

"So glad to have been of service. Can I sleep now?"

Merry turned over irritably and punched his pillow into shape before settling down with a sigh. His eyes drifted closed.

"Merry?"

"Oh save me," Merry moaned. "What?"

"So how did Frodo and Sam end up with Fael then?"

"Oh, Pip."


	3. Left Behind

The next morning Frodo was happily eating his toast when he became aware he was under scrutiny. He paused with a slice halfway to his mouth, marmalade dripping from one end. Pippin was staring at him.

"What?"

"Hmm?" Pippin smiled innocently. "Nothing."

"You're staring at me," Frodo accused.

"No I'm not." Pip rested his chin on his hands. "So, Frodo, how did you sleep?"

"Pippin," Merry said, nudging his cousin with his shoulder. Pip turned to look at him and Merry glared.

"Why is he staring at me?" Frodo asked.

"I'm sitting here harmlessly eating my breakfast," Pippin said defensively.

"May I speak to you for a minute?" Merry said tightly, dragging the protesting hobbit up from the table and out of the kitchen. A muffled argument drifted down the hall behind them.

"So, how long are they staying?" Bilbo said, sipping at his tea.

"Until the party's over," Sam chuckled, leaning Fael over one big hand and stroking his back gently. The baby burped and Sam patted his back, praising him. "Good lad!"

"I love them dearly," Bilbo said, his eyes rolling. "But they're so noisy! I like a bit of peace myself."

"Did Fael wake you up last night?" Frodo asked anxiously. "He was a bit fretful."

"I did hear some noise," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "But I just rolled over and went to sleep."

"Maybe we should move rooms," Sam said uneasily. He pressed the bottle teat back to Fael's lips and the baby latched on and began to suckle greedily. "He's generally pretty good at night, but he does wake now and then and roar his head off." He looked down at the baby, the tips of his ears a little red. "We wouldn't want to wake you every night."

"Every night," Bilbo mused. "Hmm, imagine that?"

Frodo raised a brow as Sam flushed even further and Bilbo smiled mischievously down into his milky tea. He hoped they were all talking about the baby's cries right now, but with Bilbo you never knew.

"It's only for a few more months," Bilbo dismissed. "I'm sure I can put up with the occasional disturbance in the night."

"What was happening in the night?" Pippin asked eagerly as he sat back down at the table with a bump and Merry groaned and covered his face with one hand.

"Fael was cryin'," Sam said firmly. "That's all. Just the baby cryin', as babies do."

"Oh," said Pip, looking crestfallen.

"Anyway," Merry said hastily. "We're delivering the invitations today and picking up the barrels from the Dragon. Is everything else organised?"

"This party was your idea," Frodo reminded him. "It's all in your hands."

"Won't be as good as my party was," Bilbo said in satisfaction.

"I don't think anyone will see a party like that again any time soon," Frodo agreed. "I'll take him, Sam," he offered as the bottle was noisily drained. Sam handed him over and Frodo stroked the wind out of him, deftly wiping the inevitable milky trickle he always brought back up. He sat him on his lap and let the baby lean back against his chest, one hand supporting him and the other stroking the down on his strong little feet. Fael kicked and wriggled, loving the freedom to flex his toes against his father's hands.

"I have some letters to write," Bilbo said, heaving himself to his feet. Pippin helped him up and supported him down the hallway and Merry put his head in his hands.

"What's that about?" Sam said from the sink.

"What?" Merry said, jumping to his feet. "Nothing! I'll go get those invitations!"

Frodo watched him go and then turned to Sam with a shrug. "Don't ask me," he said before Sam could say a word.

"How many cousins do you have anyway?" Sam teased, laying his hands on Frodo's shoulders and kissing his crown.

Frodo tilted his head and smiled up, hoping Sam could make out this invitation. It seemed he could because his eyes sparked and he lowered his head and parted his lips, just a little.

"Cooee! Anyone home?"

Sam straightened and Frodo blinked in disappointment.

"Daisy?" Sam called.

"Speaking of relatives," Frodo muttered, and then there was Daisy Green, nee Gamgee, Sam's oldest sister and the ruler of the female side of the Gamgee clan since Sam's mother had died when he was a lad. She had Sam's brown eyes and sandy hair, but she was a bit rounder and shorter. She had to reach up to kiss Sam's cheek and he ducked his head and turned his face so she could give him a peck.

"This is a surprise, Daisy," Sam said uncertainly.

"Well, I couldn't wait for you to find the time to come see me," she said pointedly, taking off her hat and laying it on the table. "Mr. Frodo," she nodded politely. "Oh, don't get up," she said as he made to stand. "I see you've your hands full. So this is the wee'un that has everyone talking, is it?"

"Nice to see you Mistress Green," Frodo said quickly, getting a word in while she could draw breath.

"We only got home yesterday," Sam defended, feeling the side of the pot and putting the kettle back on the fire.

"I know," Daisy said placidly, sitting down at the table with a comfortable sigh. "I saw dad last night and he told me about you becoming a father. You haven't seen your newest niece yet, Sam, she was born a month after you left last year."

The censure in her tone was unmistakable. "I hope you'll bring her to the party tomorrow," Sam said apologetically. "Er, the invitation should arrive today."

"I'll look forward to it. How's that tea coming along?"

Sam poured a fresh pot and exchanged a helpless look with Frodo, who suppressed a laugh. It was good to see someone else suffering under the gaze of his relatives. Then Daisy switched her attention to him and he gulped and tried to keep a panicked look off his face.

"So, can I hold my new nephew?" she said, reaching out her arms. Frodo handed Fael over and she held him with the ease of long experience, looking down into his wide blue eyes. Frodo tried to recall how many children she had now.

"Well, he's just as dad described him," she said thoughtfully. "My Holly is just getting over her cold, Sam, else I'd have bought her to show you and meet her new cousin. I've a pile of old clothes you might find useful if you don't mind second hand." She pinned Frodo with another glance and he almost squirmed.

"That would be fine," he managed. "We were going to buy some-"

"Oh you don't want to waste good money on baby clothes," Daisy dismissed scornfully. "They grow out of them quick enough. You pop by later, Sam, and I'll give you a basket full, and when you're done with them you pass them along to the next as needs 'em."

"Thank you, Daisy," Sam said weakly.

"So, he looks healthy enough," Daisy allowed, eyes busy over Fael's little form. "How old is he?"

"Nearly eight weeks," Frodo volunteered and she hummed thoughtfully.

"He's a mort small?"

"He was born early."

"Hmm. How's his possetting?"

"His what?" Frodo replied blankly.

"Does he bring up much of his feed?" Daisy asked patiently. "Might be he's not getting enough to eat."

"He's getting plenty," Sam said defensively.

"But not breast milk," Daisy said shaking her head sagely. "That's a set back."

"The elf who delivered him gave us a powder to mix with his milk," Frodo said, feeling his hackles rise a little at her dismissive tone. "It makes up for-"

"Nothing can make up for breast milk," Daisy interrupted smugly. "I've not weaned Holly yet, so I've some to spare. Best if I took him for a few months, gave him a better start. Always room for one more at our house."

"Daisy!" Sam exclaimed and Frodo decided he'd had enough. He reached over and plucked his son from his aunt's lap and held him close.

"We can manage just fine," he said haughtily.

"I wasn't going to steal him away, Mr. Frodo" Daisy chuckled, her eyes shining. "It was just an offer."

"And we're grateful for it," Sam said hastily.

Frodo glared at him. "Hmph," he said.

Daisy chuckled again, shaking her head. "No need to get your back up," she said, waving her hand airily. "I thought two lads might be glad to have someone take a new babe off their hands."

Frodo sat down with a bump on the opposite side of the table. "Well we're not," he said ungraciously.

"So I see." She studied him and Frodo held Fael up to his shoulder, resisting the urge to check to see if he had marmalade on his chin. Daisy Green had a stare that could bone a fish at twenty paces.

"Well, if you ever need advice you send for me. I promise I won't try and snatch him away." She gave him a smile and it was so like one of Sam's that Frodo found himself relaxing a little and huffing out a rueful breath. He lowered Fael back to his lap and dropped an absent kiss on his downy head.

Daisy sipped her tea placidly, looking with curious eyes around the kitchen. "A few biscuits might go well with this tea," she said pointedly and Sam sprang up.

"We have cake?" he offered and Daisy nodded.

"That'll do," she allowed and he rushed to fill a plate with Mrs. Hill's finest offerings.

Tea and cakes consumed Daisy picked her straw hat back up and smiled down at her new nephew. "Don't forget them clothes, Sam." She lifted her face and he obediently bent over and let her peck his cheek once more. She pinched his chin, probably the same way she'd been doing since he was a baby himself, Frodo thought, noting the soft love in her eyes as she gazed up at her little brother. "You are a worrit to us," she chided fondly, and then she swept out of the room like a small round tornado, leaving wreckage in her wake.

Sam sat down at the table. "Whew."

"Cheek," Frodo huffed without heat. "Did she think we'd just hand him over?"

"I feel better that's out of the way though," Sam said with a sigh. "It's her and dad I dreaded facin' most." He frowned. "Though neither of them asked all the questions I was expectin'."

"Not yet," Frodo predicted and Sam groaned. "There's one more you've yet to face," Frodo said, standing up and cradling the now dozing baby to his shoulder.

Sam raised a brow.

"Rosie Cotton," Frodo said and Sam winced.

Frodo patted him comfortingly on one slumped shoulder and carried Fael to their room for a nap. Before he laid him down he sat with him a while, holding him close and just stroking his hair. "Don't worry, Fael," he murmured into his delicate pointed ear. "Your dad and I won't be letting you go anywhere any time soon."

Poor Sam, Frodo thought. He had a feeling that for Sam Rosie might be the hardest one to face of all. Somewhere inside him something in Frodo felt small and ice cold.

He had his own fears where Rosie Cotton was concerned.

~***~

Rosie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and sighed. It would be nice to get through one hour of work today without someone mentioning Samwise Gamgee. She deftly patted the yellow butter into a square and pressed it with the Cotton Farm stamp. Then she laid it aside and began to shape another.

"Mrs. Hill said they're back for good, or so it seems. They've got a standing order for her baked goods in already." Ruby carefully washed eggs and began to sort them.

Mrs. Cotton sniffed. "Well, she's a good enough cook for some, I suppose."

"They're getting all their dairy from us, mam," Rosie pointed out. "Just like they used to. That's good business."

"Aye, and their eggs too." Ruby surveyed her mornings work critically. "Might be worth investing in another half dozen layers, Lily, what do you think? I saw some good'uns at market last week."

"Let's see if those wanderers stay put this time," Lily Cotton said pointedly. "Barely a six month they stayed last time they come home and then they were up and off." She cast her daughter a significant glance. "Disappointed some folk around here, I can tell you."

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"But our Rosie weren't one of them," her aunt said cheerfully. "Else she wouldn't have been walking out every Sunday with the likeliest lads in Hobbiton."

"Hasn't wed one of them yet, has she?" Lily said sharply, then peeked out at the sun high overhead. "Better check that joint," she muttered and trotted away.

"You pay her no nevermind, love," Ruby said, drying her hands briskly on her apron. "She's just worried for you and it comes out sharper than it means."

"No need to worry over me," Rosie said, finished the last pat of butter with a grateful sigh. "Sam and I never made no promises." She chuckled. "He never could work up the nerve before he went off the first time."

Ruby joined her chuckles. "I recall. I'm partial to the shy type myself," she confided. "My Will blushes something terrible when..." she trailed away with a happy sigh and Rosie hid her smile behind her hand. Ruby shook herself. "Anyway," she said briskly. "You say you made no promises before he took off that first time, but what about when he come home? They stayed right here at the farm, didn't they?"

"Yes, but Sam was busy, off and about. And..." Rosie trailed off and bent over the tub, washing the greasy butter from her hands.

"And?"

"And he was different,' she shrugged. "Older, but in more than years. His eyes had such an odd look sometimes."

"So you didn't mind him going off again then?"

Rosie flicked her aunt a smile. "I minded something terrible," she confided. "Made a big fuss, just about stamped my foot at him. Told him I wouldn't wait for him, bold as brass, and him not even asked me!"

"There's askin' and there's askin'," her aunt said wisely. "I reckon you're grown up enough to know what a lad's sayin' with his eyes, even if he hasn't the nerve to speak it aloud."

"You know, I thought I was. But maybe I was mistaken about what I thought I saw. He was quick enough to hare off again when it suited him, and he hasn't exactly beaten a path to my door since he got home."

"Rosie, love," her aunt said tentatively. "I know the gossip has been flying thick and fast these last two days since they got back, but I was wondering..."

"I've heard about this mysterious babe, Aunty," Rosie confirmed and her aunt smiled in relief.

"Golden haired, so the stories go. Though that's not so rare as it was after this last year."

"Well I heard from Mrs. Hill that she saw the babe yesterday when she delivered some pies, and that his eyes were as blue as cornflowers."

Ruby pursed her lips thoughtfully. "That's a hopeful sign. Never known a Gamgee with blue eyes."

"Mr. Frodo's are blue enough," Rosie said pertly, untying her apron.

"So might this babe's mother be," Ruby retorted. She studied her niece with a worried frown. "So you reckon to pick back up then, love? Where you left off?"

"The problem is, Aunty we never left off anywhere." Rosie laughed and kissed Ruby on the cheek. "No, I reckon if I want to get anywhere this time, I better be the one who speaks up!"

~***~

Rosie pushed open the gate to Bag End and climbed the steps. Mr. Frodo was bending over a bush, plucking leaves. He turned, flicking a curl from his eyes.

"Hello," he said in surprise. He straightened and turned. "Hello, Rosie."

"Mr. Frodo," Rosie greeted, studying him curiously. He certainly looked different than he had the year before. His skin glowed with life and his hair was bright and shining in the afternoon sunlight.

"If you're looking for Sam he's popped out for a bit I'm afraid. Daisy had some baby clothes for us." He shot a glance to the wooden bench and Rosie saw a large beautifully woven wicker basket laying upon it. She could just see golden downy curls over the edge.

"I might walk and meet him then," Rosie said, backing down a step.

"You're welcome to wait," Frodo said generously. "I have a pot massing." He held up a handful of sage. "I was just picking some fresh herbs for a recipe I'm trying out. Something the elves shared with me."

"I wouldn't want to disturb you," Rosie said shyly.

"You'd be doing me a favour actually. If you could carry the herbs in for me?"

Rosie straightened her spine and stood her ground. What was she running away from? After all, this was where Sam was staying, she had a right to wait for him without feeling like a trespasser. "I'll carry the baby if you like," she offered on impulse.

Frodo glanced at the basket and then back to her. "Thank you."

Curious, Rosie stepped forward and peered down into the basket. The little one did indeed have golden curls and one pink palm pressed against his cheek. A light blanket was tucked around him and his rosebud lips were pursing in his sleep. She glanced up at Mr. Frodo and saw he was watching her closely. With a smile she picked up the basket and tucked the handle in the crook of her arm.

Frodo smiled back and indicated the open back door. "I'll lead the way, shall I?"

Rosie had to admit to some curiosity as she followed him into the dim cool hallway. She studied it all with interest, filing it away to tell her mother later, she was sure to be interested. The wide tiles were cool under her feet and Rosie followed Frodo down the fine panelled hall into the cozy kitchen.

"Just put him down on the table," Frodo invited, laying the herbs on a bench and taking down a cup and saucer from the dresser. "You will have some tea, won't you?"

Rosie watched as he bustled around, unable to help comparing him with the hobbit he'd been the year before. He'd looked well enough for the most part back then, just drawn about the eyes and tired a lot. In fact until his illness you'd have thought that was all that ailed him, weariness after the long journey he'd been on. But now Rosie could see it was if a light had been lit within him, and it was easier to see what had been missing the year before.

"You and Sam did it then," she blurted out and Frodo lifted his head and raised a curious brow. "Found your cure?"

Frodo huffed a chuckle. "Yes," he confirmed, turning back to the pot and pouring tea into her cup. "Thanks to the elves."

"I'm glad, Mr. Frodo," she said sincerely. "Right glad." She looked down at the worn old table, tracing a knothole with one finger. "Sam was that worried about you."

And now he doesn't have to be worried any more, Rosie thought in satisfaction. Mr. Frodo was all well and healed and that meant Sam had finally come home for good.

"Milk?"

"I can help myself," Rosie volunteered, feeling much more cheerful all of a sudden. She poured herself some milk from the jug and looked around the kitchen again. "I always wondered what it looked like in here," she confided.

Frodo looked around. "A lot barer than it used to," he said ruefully. "There's barely a bite in the house! But we'll have those larders filled in no time."

The baby stirred and Frodo lifted his hand and stroked his belly, soothing him back to sleep.

Rosie nodded at the sleeping babe. "Folk are spreadin' the strangest gossip about him," she said daringly. "The things they're sayin!"

"I can imagine," Frodo said, smoothing the blue blanket over the baby's chest and lingering to touch his pointed chin softly.

"But then you must be used to that," Rosie mused, sipping at her tea. "Why, you should of heard the things folk said about you and Sam the first time he took off with you!"

Frodo raised a curious brow. "About us?"

"Well, even before then really. Folk seemed to think you and him was too close, you know? For master and servant."

Frodo's face was still and Rosie put her cup back into the saucer nervously, wondering if she'd said too much. Then his lips curved a little and he shook his head.

"Fancy that."

"Didn't you know?" she asked, surprised.

Frodo shrugged. "It never occurred to me. Sam and I were just friends back then. I wonder why that surprised folk so much?"

"Well, all this for one." Rosie said, indicating the room. "Sam and me, we come from different kind of folk, beggin' your pardon. Nothing like this grand house and all."

Frodo followed her gaze around the room. "I didn't do anything to earn all this, Rosie," he told her honestly. "My parents didn't even have their own home, they were living with family when I was young. And when they died I was just an orphan, passed from relative to relative."

Rosie listened, eyes wide. She knew Mr. Frodo had been orphaned young, but she'd never heard any of this before.

"If Bilbo hadn't taken me in and made me his heir I'd be working for my living now, just as Sam has always done. So I've never really felt the differences between us that he has."

"Oh," Rosie said in wonder, taking another sip of her tea. "I never knew all that."

Frodo shrugged. "I've been lucky in the people who love me."

Rosie thought of Sam's devotion, so often the cause of bitter resentment in her and she was forced to agree. She studied Mr. Frodo as he sat pensively drinking his tea. What was there about him that inspired such loyalty?

"If folk talked when we left the first time, what must they have said the second?" Frodo wondered.

"Oh, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin made sure everyone knew why you went off," she told him. "That you'd been hurt somethin' terrible savin' the world and all."

Frodo flushed and closed his eyes in embarrassment. "Is that what they said?"

Rosie nodded. "Aye. The stories they told! You wouldn't believe it!" Then she put her hand to her mouth and giggled. "What am I sayin'? Of course you would, you were there!"

Frodo chuckled with her, shaking his head. "Don't mix me up in their tales! We weren't together all the time. Sam and I had to go off alone." His smile faded and he looked down into his cup.

"Course you did," Rosie said a little tartly. "As if Sam would let you go off without him."

Frodo looked up at her and there was something in his eyes that bought a flush to her cheeks. She squirmed a little, regretting her sarcasm.

"You're right, Rosie," he said quietly. "Sam wouldn't let me go off without him."

"No, he never did," she retorted, not liking the way he was making her feel. "Never mind the gossip or those he left behind, if you wanted him to go then off Sam went." She subsided, realising her hands were clenched around her cup. She unbent her fingers and laid her hands in her lap.

"Yes," Frodo agreed simply. "He did. Although to be fair I'm not sure Sam knew or cared about the gossip. Why should he, there was no truth to it back then."

And something about the way he said it suddenly hit Rosie. She frowned.

Back then?

Suddenly the cozy kitchen seemed too close, too small and Rosie pushed her chair back and stood. "Thank you for the tea," she said politely. "I might see if I can meet Sam in the lane."

Frodo smiled up at her. "It was nice to see you again, Rosie."

~***~

Back in the laneway Rosie blew a breath out with a puff. What had she been doing, leaping up and running off like a startled hare? What must Mr. Frodo think of her? She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Mr. Frodo had just been chatting, that's all. He hadn't meant anything by his idle words.

_Back then._

And yet now that she thought about it his words hadn't sounded idle. He'd said it twice, she recalled, and there had been a gentle look in his eyes as if he were trying to tell her something.

The afternoon was cooling, the breeze was gentle on her face and on impulse Rosie began to walk faster and faster, feet slapping in the dust, arms swinging. It felt good to move, to feel the breeze hit her flushed face and she increased speed and began to run. She ran as she hadn't since she was child, flat out, head down, hair streaming behind her.

She sensed rather than saw the obstacle in front of her and tried to stop, but she was too late, big hands came out to stop her and a basket spilled at her feet, tiny garments scattering in the dust.

"Rosie?" A dear familiar voice said in concern and Rosie looked up and saw Sam's face, no different than it had been a year before when he turned and walked out of her life.

"Rosie, what on earth are you running from?"

Sam's hands were on her arms and Rosie bowed her head and breathed, pushing tumbled curls off her brow. "You've dropped your basket," she panted, hands on her hips as she breathed.

"Never mind that," Sam dismissed and Rosie looked up into concerned hazel eyes. She'd forgotten how tall he was, how broad! And how kind his eyes could be. "Why were you running?" He glanced suspiciously over her shoulder at the lane behind her. "Was someone chasin' you?"

Rosie couldn't help smiling at his concern. "No," she said, tucking her hair back behind her ears, suddenly realising how untidy it must be. "I was just runnin' is all."

"You surely were," Sam chuckled, letting go of her arms and stepping back, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way they did when he laughed. "You looked just like you did when you were a nipper runnin' wild in these fields, all of us together!" He nodded to the long green grass, his smile widening. "Remember?"

Her heart clenched in her breast and her arms felt cold where his warmth had held her. "I remember you and Tom runnin'," she said shakily. "And me and Marigold tagging along after you, wantin' to join your games."

Sam's smile died and he frowned at her, face concerned. "Rosie?"

"You was always pirates and elves and adventurers and such like. But there was no room in your games for girls, you said. And then you'd run off and leave us behind."

"You sure you're all right?"

Rosie shook her head and huffed a rueful laugh. "Pay me no mind, Sam, my head's all over the place today." She glanced down at her feet. "Let me help you."

They knelt together and picked up the clothes and napkins, shaking the pale fine dust from them and laying them back in the basket. Rosie picked up a little blue shirt and stood, holding it out and admiring it.

"This will suit his golden curls," she said, stroking the smocking around the neck.

Sam glanced at her in surprise. "How do you know his hair is golden?"

"I've just been to Bag End," Rosie admitted. "I saw Mr. Frodo and the baby."

Sam turned his head and looked curiously at her and she felt her heart skip a beat again. Not brown, hazel. How had she forgotten the shade of his eyes?

"Did you?" he said as she tried to catch her breath.

"He told me you found that cure you were looking for with the elves." Rosie regained her composure. "I was glad to hear it, Sam, truly. He sure was looking poorly when you took him off."

"He's all better now," Sam said with a smile.

"So he said." Rosie looked down at her dusty toes. " It's been weighing real heavy on me, Sam, the way I let you leave, without even a good bye. I'm sorry for that."

Sam smiled at her, his eyes warm. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Rosie."

Rosie smiled back tentatively, wondering if this was the moment she'd been waiting for without even realising it for the last year. Every time she walked out with a lad and they started getting sweet on her she'd find herself holding back, just a little. As though part of her knew she had unfinished business before she could move on.

She held her breath, wondering if Sam was going to lean over and kiss her, the way she'd wanted him to ever since he walked back into her life so many months before.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he just shook his head, before he turned and kept walking down the lane.

Unaccountably disappointed, Rosie stood for a moment, fighting her fears. Why had he let that moment pass?

"Daisy tells me the Shire's had a wonderful year," Sam said conversationally and Rosie shrugged off her disappointment and fell back into step beside him.

"Aye," she said, casting him a small sidelong glance at the change of subject. "Thanks to you and your friends ridin' back the way you did. It's like the whole Shire was holdin' its breath and waitin' for somethin' to happen! And then you all came home and made it happen." She cast him a shy glance. "Folk still talk about you all."

Sam huffed a laugh. "No doubt Merry and Pippin have somethin' to do with that!"

Rosie marvelled how at ease Sam was calling Mr. Frodo's grand cousins by name. Why, Mr. Merry would be Master of Buckland one day, and Mr. Pippin would be the Thain, although that was a little harder to believe. Last time she'd seen him he'd given her a right saucy wink that had made her giggle all afternoon remembering it.

"They have been to and fro a lot, gettin' Bag End back into shape." She cast his absorbed face another look. He was smiling as he looked around him, curling his toes on the ground as if even the feel of the dirt path was making him happy. "You're glad to be home," she said surely.

Sam smiled his delight. "It's all I've wanted for months," he confided. "Don't get me wrong, the elves of Rivendell treated us like honoured guests, we wanted for nowt. But it's not the same as your own hearth, is it? Your own chair and bed at night." And he ducked his head and flushed a little again.

"But you're not quite home yet, are you? You're still stayin' at Bag End."

Sam turned his head and looked at her. "Bag End is my home now too, Rosie," he said simply.

"Your home? You mean you're stayin' there for good?"

Sam nodded and then he took a deep breath. "I am. I'm stayin' with Frodo."

Rosie absorbed this. "For ever?" she said, trying to get it clear in her head.

"Yes."

"Oh."

They continued side by side down the lane, Rosie casting glances at Sam now and then from the corner of her eye.

"Does Mr. Frodo still need you to look after him then, Sam?" she asked tentatively.

"No, I don't work for Frodo any more, Rosie, it's not like that. Frodo and I are just making our home together now." Sam stopped and sighed a breath. He turned to face her. "We're making our life together now."

Rosie blinked in surprise at his clear gaze, the direct honesty in his eyes.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because we love each other," Sam said simply.

There was silence for a long moment as Rosie stared at him, blinking her surprise.

"Well." Rosie took a shaky breath then swallowed. "Well, you've always loved each another, Sam, I know that."

Sam tilted his head in surprise.

"Well of course I know that," Rosie said, huffing out a stronger breath. "I mean, when Mr. Frodo needed you to go with him that first time you shrugged off the Shire like a worn coat to follow him. And when he needed healin' you left us all behind again to take him away. I always knew you loved him."

"I did," Sam admitted. "I did love him. And now I'm in love with him too."

"Oh," Rosie said numbly, wrapping her arms about her waist as this sunk in. "How is that love different? What's changed?"

Sam looked shyly down at the basket in his arms and then back up at her. "I'm not real good with words, Rosie. I wish I could explain. It just has changed is all."

His eyes darted away from hers again and instincts Rosie didn't know she had screamed at her. She shook her head in disbelief.

"He took you to his bed, didn't he?" she gasped.

Sam drew in a surprised breath, his cheeks reddening. "I think I'd better go," he said quietly.

"No, wait," Rosie said, putting out her hand and catching his arm. It was warm under her fingers, the fine hairs soft. "I'm sorry, Sam! You just caught me by surprise is all. Please don't go."

Sam was biting his lip. "I think I should."

Rosie squeezed his arm. "Please, Sam, I want to understand this. I need to understand."

"I don't know as I can help you understand," Sam said helplessly. "I don't know how to explain that lovin' Frodo doesn't depend on what bed I'm in." He lifted his troubled gaze and shrugged.

Rosie felt a rush of tears to her eyes at his words but she blinked them away. She didn't want to cry now, this was all too important. She felt as if there was something here, some truth just out of reach, and if she could find it, understand it, then maybe she could make sense of all this.

"I shouldn't of asked that," she said evenly. "But I need to know something, Sam. Just one thing."

Sam nodded, eyes down.

"It wasn't all in my head last year, was it? There was a moment between you and me when we had a future." Rosie squeezed Sam's arm urgently. "Wasn't there?"

Sam laid his hand over hers and held her fingers gently.

"I reckon there was," he admitted softly.

Taking strength from his words Rosie took a step closer. "And if you hadn't gone and left me behind again there still would be now, wouldn't there?"

Sam gently squeezed her fingers and then stepped back, separating them.

"I don't know, Rosie," he said lowly. "I don't know what would have happened. I just know how I feel now."

"So it's not too late for us," Rosie said urgently. "It don't matter to me what happened while you were away, that's over and done. You was lonely and far from home, Sam, and you fell into the arms of someone you love. I can understand that. But you're back now and you and I can make a go of things."

Sam was shaking his head but she kept speaking, desperate to make him understand, knowing this was her last chance.

"Look, Sam, I've always known he come first with you. Haven't I spent a long cold year learning that lesson? I expected him to come first with you all our lives. Just as long as there was room for me there I was content."

"Oh, Rosie." Sam stared at her aghast. "Did you really expect to come second to anyone? You deserve so much better'n that, love."

"I know I do!" Rosie exclaimed, fists clenched. "Do you think I don't know that? Why else wouldn't I reach out my hand to you back then, before you ever went away? I wanted to be all and everything to the hobbit I wed."

"And I'm sure you will be," Sam said quietly. "You should be. But that hobbit won't be me."

"Because Mr. Frodo reached out his hand," Rosie said bitterly. "Greedy's what I call it. He had every other part of you, Sam, he had to have that too? He couldn't leave me anything?"

Sam lowered his eyes, his fingers where they clutched the basket were white.

"Rosie," he began sadly.

"I thought this at least was something I had that he couldn't give you," she finished in a rough whisper.

Sam shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

Suddenly Rosie couldn't take this any more. Had she really thought she was fighting a battle for Sam's affections? The truth was Frodo had already won, hands down. There was no doubt in her mind who had begun this, who had made the choices. There was no doubt in her mind that if Frodo had made another choice then she and Sam would be in each other's arms now.

It was painful to accept that she would have settled for that. It was even more painful to accept that now she didn't have to. Sam belonged to Frodo now, in every way there was. He would never belong to her.

"I've work to do at home," she said as evenly as she could, stepping back and away.

Sam made no move to stop her, he didn't speak. What was there left for the two of them to say?

They stood on the path for a small while, just looking at each other.

Why, I think he's saying good bye to me in his head, Rosie thought. Just as I am to him. Did he once have dreams about us too? Was there even the smallest part of him that doubted his choice?

Sam nodded to her and then he really was turning and walking away, as he had so many times already. And Rosie found herself biting her lip to stop from doing what she should have done those other times he left her behind, to call out and ask him to stop.

It was too late for that.

~***~

Aunt Ruby found her out back feeding the chickens and stood leaning on the fence for long minutes as Rosie clicked under her breath and scattered corn. She knew her nose was red and her eyes a little swollen from tears and she kept her head turned away as she fussed about, filling the dishes with feed and grit. Finally Ruby spoke up.

"Your dad just got an invite to a party over at Bag End," she said idly. "Lily's already making a fuss about what to wear, and what to cook to bring along."

Rosie dusted her hands off and leaned on the wire, looking down over the farm with blank eyes.

"Me and Will are included in the invite, but I thought I might just stay home that evening. Have a nice quiet time in an empty house. If you like, you could stay with me?"

Rosie blinked a few times and looked around, not quite meeting her aunt's eyes. "You love parties."

Ruby shrugged carelessly. "Me? I can take or leave them."

Rosie turned around fully and surveyed her aunt's innocent face. "You love to drag Uncle Will up to dance and you're dying to get a good look at that baby!" she accused, sniffing and smiling. "You wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Ruby rolled her eyes. "And what about you? You're a pretty good dancer too. Will you be going?"

Rosie pushed trembling fingers deep into her apron pocket. She remembered sitting happily at Mr. Frodo's table that morning, chatting about Sam and her face grew hot. Go to their party? Face Mr. Frodo again?

"Darn right I will," she said firmly. "And I'll dance every dance and drink a toast to their health and I'll do it all with a smile on my face!"

"Good lass,' her aunt beamed approvingly. "And you just wait. Keep that smile up long enough and it'll become real. Dance with enough lads and the right one will come along, you mark my words."

Rosie's stubborn look faded. "You know what, Aunty? I think the right one's already been along," she said quietly. "But he kept right on goin'. And left me far behind him."

"It's his loss," her aunt said loyally and Rosie gave her a watery smile.

"It is," she agreed. "I know it is. And I should be glad, right? That I finally know where I stand?"

Ruby just watched her, eyes sympathetic.

Tears finally began to fall and her aunt reached over and patted her back, comforting her with her strong work worn hands.

"But I don't feel glad," Rosie sobbed. "I don't feel very glad at all."

"There, there, my lass," he aunt soothed. "There's plenty of lads out there who know a good thing when they see it. And who knows? That fool might open his eyes and see what he's lost, given a bit more time."

Rosie sniffed and scrubbed her eyes with her apron. "Oh, no, I've given Sam Gamgee all the time he's gettin' from me! Besides, he's made his choice." Rosie puffed out a cynical breath. "Or rather Mr. Frodo made the choice. And you know what I think? If Frodo had made another choice it'd be me and Sam dancin' at this party, and no mistake!"

"Well, would you have still wanted him if..." Ruby broke off and her eyes grew wide. "Did you say Frodo?"

Rosie snorted a laugh and smoothed her apron down. "Aye, Aunty," she said, slipping through the gate and locking it behind her. "That's what I said."

Ruby's mouth was opening and closing. "Mr. Frodo?"

Rosie wrapped an arm around her aunt's waist and hugged her. "Glad I'm not the only one surprised."

"Oh you won't be!" Ruby said, the light of good gossip igniting in her eyes. "Oh my goodness no!"

Rosie leaned her head fondly on her aunt's shoulder, and Ruby patted her with one work worn hand. "You'll be all right," Ruby predicted and Rosie sighed.

"Not got much choice," Rosie agreed. "Now." She straightened up determinedly. "What am I going to wear?"

~***~

Frodo lay Fael down on his belly on the sheepskin, arms tucked under his chest, chuckling with delight as his little head lifted and he kicked his toes against the softness. "Does that feel good, Fael?"

Tiny fingers grasped the sheepskin and Fael bobbed his head enthusiastically. Frodo sat down beside him and tilted his head back, enjoying the sunshine and the feeling of good health that always washed over him when outside. It was like he was connected now, to the blue sky and the good earth below him, and he wondered if Fael felt the same. The little one always seemed extra lively in the sunshine.

Slow footsteps tramped up the lane and Frodo knelt up and watched as Sam walked towards the gate, head down, laden basket over one arm. Frodo felt his heart sink.

"You look as if you're carrying the weight of the world along with those baby clothes," Frodo said, trying to keep his voice light. He sprang up and opened the gate. "Daisy bend your ear again?"

Sam laid the basket down and sat on Frodo's blanket with a weary sigh. "No more'n usual," he said with a tired smile and Frodo sat by him, feeling helpless.

"Sam?"

"I met Rosie in the lane," Sam said quietly.

"She was here earlier," Frodo revealed. "She's very nice." He studied Sam's face worriedly, feeling his heart ache at the sadness there. "It doesn't make it any easier."

Sam heaved a sigh. "I hurt her feelings."

Frodo tentatively reached out his hand and felt a little relieved when Sam took his fingers and squeezed them.

"It was bound to hurt a little," Frodo ventured. "If she still cared for you."

Sam nodded, eyes still cast down.

"And-and hurt you too," Frodo said softly. "If you still have feelings for her."

"I don't," Sam said, looking up and smiling reassuringly. Frodo smiled back as well as he could manage. "But she was in my heart a long time. And if things had been different..." He played with Frodo's hand, gently tracing the poor stump of his mutilated finger. "She still wants me," he confided quietly. "Even knowing about you and me."

"Oh." Frodo looked at their linked hands, hating the jealousy and doubt that filled his heart. "What did you tell her?"

"What do you think I told her?" Sam said, looking at him in astonishment. Then his face softened into concern. "Frodo? What's wrong, love?"

"Oh, Sam," Frodo said, his hands feeling ice cold in Sam's strong grip. "Did you... Are you... Do you have any regrets?"

"Of course not!" Sam exclaimed. "What a question to ask!"

Frodo felt a little of his tension ease at how sure Sam sounded. "You loved her once," he whispered.

Sam shook his head firmly. "I never loved her, Frodo. I've only ever loved you."

"But you said she was in your heart?"

"And so she was, once. But if I'd ever loved her, really loved her the way I do you, then I'd be with her now. Because I think I'm the type that only loves one person in their whole life, Frodo, and that's you." He gazed into Frodo's eyes and smiled tenderly. "It's always been you."

Frodo smiled back tremulously. "It has?"

Sam lifted Frodo's hand and laid a gentle kiss on it and Frodo followed the tender movement, smiling tearfully. "I have been a bit worried, Sam," he confessed thickly. "That you might still have feelings for her."

"You really have been worried haven't you?" Sam said in wonder. He shook his head. "Oh, Frodo. How long have you been frettin' about this?"

Frodo looked down at the linked hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment on his face. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just that I've never had anyone in my heart but you. So I don't know how this feels for you. I just know that the thought of you and her-"

"There is no me and her," Sam chided, reaching out and pulling Frodo under his arm. "There might of been once, you know that. But it was a long time ago for me. Think on how much has changed since then. Think how much we've been through together. Do you think anythin' or anyone in this world could drag me from your side now?"

And Frodo did think, and remember. And he relaxed finally into Sam's warm embrace. "I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered. "Have I been a jealous fool?"

Sam kissed his temple. "No. I can't say I'd like the idea of someone from your past showin' up in your life." He slanted Frodo a crooked little glance. "I know how awful it is to be jealous. I only have to remember how I feel when I think of those you knew before me."

Frodo sensed a dangerous subject. "Been jealous too, have you?" he said lightly.

"Aye. After all, Frodo, you know I've never been with anyone but you. But I have to wonder who you've been with."

"I don't even remember them, love," Frodo said, sliding his arm around Sam's sturdy waist under his waistcoat.

"Hmm, good answer," Sam said skeptically,

"And the only one you're likely to get," Frodo said pertly, feeling his jealously fade. After all, he was the one Sam had chosen in the end, it was by his side that Sam would spend the rest of his days. He lay his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Nearly feeding time," Sam said and Frodo opened his eyes and blinked down at Fael, laying on his back kicking on his sheepskin, little fists waving.

"Did you turn him over, Sam?" Frodo asked.

"I've not touched him," Sam returned.

"He's turned himself over!" Frodo said in excitement, everything else forgotten. "I lay him on his front and he must have rolled himself over."

"See if he'll do it again," Sam said eagerly and Frodo picked him up and laid him back on his front, arms under his chest. Fael lifted his head a little and then decided he preferred looking up at the sky, with a strong twist he was over on his back, toes pointing.

"Did you see that!" Sam said proudly. He leaned over Fael and kissed one round cheek soundly. The baby reached up and latched onto his nose and Frodo threw back his head and laughed.

Sam patiently let the little fingers explore him, kissing them when they reached his lips. He gazed into his son's wide blue eyes and Frodo felt his heart melting at the sight. The two people he loved best in all the world smiled into each other's eyes and then Sam tilted his head and invited him down by their side. Frodo propped his head on his arm and lay on the sheepskin, stroking Fael's tummy gently.

"Did you really ask me if I had any regrets, love?" Sam chided softly, resting on one elbow.

"I didn't know what to think," Frodo confessed, lifting his spread hand. Sam met it with his and locked their fingers together. "You looked so sad."

"I was sad," Sam said honestly. "To tell you true I didn't know her feelings ran so deep. I don't think I handled it all very well."

"Well it's over and done now, Sam," Frodo said firmly. "In the end, you chose me, right?"

"In the end?" Sam said in disbelief. "It's been pointed out to me a few times just lately, Frodo, my love, that I've always chosen you. I chose you over my family, and over the Shire and Rosie too. Of course no one else is in my heart now. There's only room for you and Fael."

Frodo absorbed this, letting the truth of Sam's sincere words sink right in. He smiled tremulously and Sam smiled back.

Fael focused on their linked hands and reached out for them, small pink fingers waving. Frodo and Sam separated their hands long enough to engulf his tiny hand between theirs

Their circle was complete.

~***~

"What's this?" Pippin said curiously, lifting the basket up onto the table. He pulled out a small calico gown with roses embroidered on it and held it up to his chest.

Merry tilted his head and hummed thoughtfully. "Not really your colour, Pip."

Pippin fluttered his eyes flirtatiously.

"My sister Daisy gave us some spare baby clothes." Sam explained. "I haven't had a chance to go through them yet." He reached into the basket and began pulling out clothes and nappies.

"That's nice," Frodo observed, nodding at a shirt with blue smocking around the neck.

Sam fingered the sturdy material sadly. "It'll go with his golden curls." He shot Frodo a look and then forced a smile, laying the shirt aside.

"How does he wear this then?" Pippin said, pulling out a quilted rectangle with two straps. He held it up in front of him then turned it upside down.

"If you try that on your head I'll ding you in the ear," Merry threatened. "Here, give it to me." He pulled it out of Pip's hands and threaded his hands through the straps. "It's a sling, see?"

"Let me try!" Pippin said eagerly and Merry slipped it off. "Put Fael in it, I want to carry him."

"Make sure the straps are tight enough," Sam said patiently, lifting Fael out of his basket.

Frodo watched with a smile as they placed Fael in the carrier and Pippin walked around the room, gesturing expansively to show how his arms were free. But under his smile he was watching Sam with concern, sensing his sombre mood.

"Can I take him to the party in this?" Pippin asked, wrapping his arms around Fael's snug little form and kissing his head.

"It might be a good idea, actually," Merry observed, sitting back down at the table with his mug. "Everyone will want to hold him otherwise, they'll be passing him around all night."

"And you never know if someone might have the sniffles or something," Pippin added.

Sam was lost in thought again so Frodo answered. "So long as you don't smoke while you're carrying him," he allowed absently.

"No pipe," Pippin agreed. "Although I have two hands free, so I could certainly have a pipe in this hand and a mug in this one." He demonstrated, holding out both arms. "See! No hands!"

"All right," Frodo said firmly. "He's not a toy. Time for his feed anyway."

Sam blinked and jumped up. "Past time, it's a wonder he's not bellowing for it."

"Does anyone else notice how the lives of five grown hobbits now revolve entirely around that tiny little baby?" Bilbo said.

The other four hobbits looked at each other in surprise.

"Not really," Frodo returned.

"I hadn't noticed," Pippin said.

"Me either," Merry threw in.

Bilbo returned to his mug with a snort. "Oh, well, forget I said anything."

~***~

Frodo slipped his nightshirt over his head, running one hand through the tumbled curls. He checked Fael one last time and climbed into bed next to Sam, sitting cross legged by his side.

"It's all right to be sad, you know," Frodo said quietly. Sam looked up, startled out of his absorption. "You don't have to hide behind smiles to make me feel better."

"I wasn't," Sam denied unconvincingly.

Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder and Sam groaned softly.

"All right, maybe I was," he admitted. "I don't want you to worry that I'm broodin' about her is all."

"Because I got jealous before," Frodo said regretfully. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder. "Don't ever hide what you're feeling, Sam, especially to protect me. We've been all through this before, haven't we?"

Sam nodded sheepishly and Frodo pressed a fond kiss to his cheek.

"And it's all right if you feel bad. It can't be easy hurting someone you care about." Frodo said the words easily, glad he could be sincere. And after all, it was easy to be generous to the loser when you were the winner.

"I do feel bad," Sam admitted quietly. "It's not Rosie's fault that time changed us so much. But I also feel bad because, well, I don't see now how things could have been different. I'd have still loved you my life long, even if we'd never found this deeper bond between us."

Frodo studied Sam's dear, familiar, wonderful face in the lamplight. He remembered his words to Rosie Cotton just that morning, about how he'd always been lucky in the people who loved him. He never felt that was truer than here in Sam's arms.

Lifting his hand he took Sam's chin and turned his head. Sam raised a curious brow and Frodo leaned forward and laid a soft and tender kiss on his lips.

"I do love you, my Sam," he whispered.

Sam's ears pinkened and he smiled and wrinkled his nose. "Love you," he whispered back.

Frodo laid his head back on Sam's shoulder contentedly. "You know, Sam, Gandalf told me something once that comforts me now, although I didn't feel it at the time."

"Mmm?"

"He said there are great forces at work in the world, and that sometimes things work out just the way they were meant to. So all the danger and pain that we went through brought us together in the end, and that makes the memories easier to bear."

Sam lay his cheek on Frodo's hair, listening intently.

"And all the darkness we suffered led us to the light and gave us Fael, and we could never be anything but glad about that."

"True enough," Sam agreed stoutly. "Also it helped save the world, which was good."

"So it worked out for everybody," Frodo returned smartly, and then the two hobbits began to chuckle.

Frodo squeezed Sam's shaking shoulders. "My point, love, is that this is how things were meant to be. Even for young Rosie."

Sam sobered. "You mean she'll find the person she was meant to be with, as we did?"

"Of course she will," Frodo said firmly. He slanted Sam a teasing look. "She'll find her perfect match and one day she'll look back and say; 'Just think! I might have married that Sam Gamgee! What a lucky escape!'"

"Oy!" Sam exclaimed with a snort of laughter, tumbling Frodo back onto the bed. "Take that back!"

"Never!" Frodo declared, then dissolved into actual giggles as Sam attacked his neck with his lips, pressing a suckling kiss there that was sure to leave a mark.

"Sam, don't you dare!" Frodo warned breathlessly, grabbing Sam's ears and tugging.

Sam lifted his head. "Oh, but I must," he teased. "Then his grin faded and he stared down into Frodo's laughing eyes.

Frodo felt his own smile fading as Sam's sturdy body pressed him down into the mattress and Sam's hands gentled on his shoulders.

Frodo stroked Sam's ears and cupped his face, pulling gently until their lips were just a breath apart. "I take it back," he whispered, and then their lips were touching, Sam's head slanting as he pressed his kiss deeper. Their tongues stroked, their breaths coming faster.

And then they jerked apart as Fael began to cry, mewls of displeasure swiftly becoming wails.

Sam rested his forehead against Frodo's, panting.

"Oh, bother," he groaned.

Frodo collapsed back onto his pillow as Sam climbed out of bed and picked Fael up.

"So some things work out just how they were meant to, love?" Sam asked ruefully, cradling their baby and rocking him against his chest.

Frodo snorted and then climbed out of bed to fetch the milk.

"And we wouldn't have it any other way."


	4. Describing Sunshine

"It's too hot."

"It's just right."

"Maybe it's too deep."

"I'll be holding him, Merry, not throwing him in."

"I still think it's too hot."

"Where's the soap? It won't sting his eyes will it?"

"Just have the towel ready. No, the softest one."

"I think a wee bit more cold water wouldn't hurt."

"And I think it shouldn't take four hobbits to bathe one baby," Bilbo said, banging his stick on the kitchen flagstones.

Four faces looked over at him in surprise.

"It doesn't," Sam defended, fingers paused unlacing Fael's shirt. "It's just easier with more hands."

Frodo absently sniffed the fine scented soap that had been a gift from the elves. "And we haven't given him more than a good wash since we left Rivendell."

"Not that he's dirty or anything," Merry added, towel draped over one arm. "But the party is tonight so we might as well polish him up."

"I still think the water's a bit too hot," Pippin volunteered.

"It'll be freezing before you get him in," Bilbo grumbled.

"Watch and see how he likes it," Sam said, lifting the naked baby up, supporting his head with one hand and his bottom with the other.

"He hated it the first few times," Frodo confided, washcloths in hand.

Sam lowered him into the water, making a round surprised circle with his lips as Fael's eyes widened. "Yes," he nodded as Fael instinctively kicked against the warmth. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

Fael didn't seem so sure at first, then as Sam sat him on the soft cloth soaking at the bottom of the tub and splashed a little water on his chest he made up his mind. He kicked again and smiled.

"He likes it!" Pippin exclaimed, splashing a little more water on him.

Frodo wet and wrung out a cloth then handed it to Sam.

"First Fael's face," Sam said to the baby hobbit's wide eyes, wiping carefully. Fael screwed up his face and twisted away from the cloth. Sam swirled the washcloth deftly and gently over his face and around to tiny pointed ears. "There, clean as a whistle."

"Where did you learn all this?" Pippin asked, watching in fascination as Frodo handed Sam another cloth and accepted the first one back.

"It's common sense mostly," Frodo told him airily. "And Nestadren gave us some tips."

"The rest you just figure out." Sam leaned the baby forward on one strong hand and washed his back gently.

"You don't have to be a mother to do it either," Frodo said tartly and Sam chuckled under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Merry slanted him a curious glance.

"Frodo's still a bit annoyed at my sister Daisy," Sam explained, sitting Fael back and washing down to his strong little feet.

"What did she do, Frodo?" Pippin asked curiously.

"She was just trying to be helpful," Sam said swiftly and Frodo blew a rude raspberry. Sam chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Interfering more like," Frodo retorted. "She said Fael needed breast milk to thrive, as if we were starving him or something! Then she says, nice as you please, that we better hand Fael over to her, so she can take care of him properly!"

"The cheek!" Merry exclaimed and Frodo huffed agreement.

"That's what I said!"

"She didn't exactly say-" Sam began.

"As if that bonny babe isn't proof enough that we can take care of him!" Pippin said belligerently.

"Could someone hold out the towel then?" Sam said patiently. "Since we're all takin' care of him so well?"

Merry held out the soft towel and Sam laid Fael in his arms. Frodo folded the sides over and Merry sat down and they began to dry him carefully.

"I hope you told her off good and proper, Frodo," Merry said, drying Fael's hands gently while Frodo rubbed his feet.

"She really was only trying to help," Sam said firmly, laying the tub by the wall to be poured out onto the garden in the morning. "Some people might think a babe needs mothering instead of just fathering."

"Frodo might not make milk but that's the only thing a mother has he doesn't," Bilbo maintained loyally and Frodo smiled at his uncle's support.

"That's right," Pippin agreed, measuring powder into the milk jug and stirring it vigorously. "It's love that matters, right? And Fael's got that from all of us."

"I'm pretty sure Daisy saw that for herself before she left." Sam laid out a thick towel and shook out a soft little gown for the baby. "Don't you think, Frodo?"

"I suppose," Frodo admitted reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean your sister can come in here throwing her advice around," he warned.

"Has a few children doesn't she? Daisy Green?" Bilbo recalled.

"Six," Sam corrected.

"Hmm. Time might come, Frodo, when you appreciate some experienced advice."

"Maybe," Merry said, laying Fael on the change towel. "But she better not think about adding Fael to her brood again any time soon."

Frodo slipped the wide neck of the soft little gown over Fael's head. "Where's Fael?" he said, tugging the gown down and smiling into wide blue eyes. "There he is!" Fael waved his hands and Frodo chuckled as he tried to hold one arm still long enough to thread through the sleeve.

"She is his family too," Sam pointed out, folding a nappy into the right shape and laying it out.

"Poor little chap," Bilbo murmured. "These are quite a pair of families he's been born into."

"On the other hand he'll never lack for doting uncles," Frodo said fondly, looking up from his game of peep-bo.

"Or aunts," Sam pointed out.

"Or pocket money," Pippin said practically.

"That's right, Pip." Merry rolled his eyes. "Focus on the important things."

"Fael will think they're pretty important too, one day," Pippin said wisely.

Frodo fastened his nappy and Pippin fixed the teat on the bottle and sat down, arms out.

"Not thriving," he snorted as Fael engulfed the teat and began suckling voraciously. Fael snuffled greedily through his nose and Pip began to laugh and they all joined in, Bilbo's low chuckle chiming.

"Oh yes," Merry observed through his laughter. "Clearly wasting away."

~***~

Sam stood back with a sigh and surveyed his handiwork. He had yet to figure out why he was doing the dirty work while Merry and Pippin, whose idea this party had been, were off with the ale barrels.

"Just how many folk have been invited anyway?" Tom Cotton asked, dusting his hands.

"Not as many as will come, you can bet on that," Sam retorted, counting the tables they'd just set up in his head.

Tom wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Thirsty work," he said longingly.

"How about first taste of that barrel they're tappin'?" Sam invited with a grin and Tom grinned back.

They were too late for first taste, Merry and Pip were deep into their mugs, along with Bilbo and the hobbits putting up the tents. Frodo was laying out lanterns with Fael in his sling and Sam shaped his hand around Fael's skull, stroking his downy curls where they lay against Frodo's chest. Frodo winked at him and patted the baby's back.

He helped himself to two mugs and Tom took one happily, grinning and nodding at the laughing workers.

"Hope there's not much work left to do," he chuckled. "They look like they're settled in for the day."

"I'm only helpin' out," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's not my party."

"As long as folk show up it'll be a party." Tom took his first sip. "That's a fine brew."

They drank in silence for a few moments.

"You know, Sam," Tom said conversationally. "I may never forgive you."

Sam licked his lips, frowning at his friend. "Me? What did I do?"

"Raised my hopes, that's all. Here was I, resigned to spendin' the next fifty years havin' Sunday dinner with a total whittle like Will Bracegirdle."

"What?" Sam half laughed.

"And then you ride back into the Shire again and I think, well fine. I may end up with a brother-in-law I can actually stand after all."

Sam's laughter died. "Oh."

Tom shot him an amused look over the rim of his mug. "Don't make a face, I'm not about to call you out for breakin' my sister's heart."

"I never meant to," Sam stuttered. "I didn't think she-"

""I said don't panic. I know you and she didn't have an understandin' or anythin'."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Did she heck." Tom chuckled. "D'you think she confides her love life to her big brother? I just know our Rose, and she wouldn't have been walkin' out every Sunday while you were away if you and she had made promises."

"Every Sunday, hey?" Sam marvelled.

Tom slanted him a glance. "Is that jealousy?"

"No!" Sam said hastily.

"Pity, bang go my hopes again."

Sam shook his head. "You're still a rogue, Tom Cotton. And you still like pulling my leg."

"Used to be how I had my fun." Tom sighed reminiscently. "Watching you moon over Rose every Saturday night at the Dragon. Sighs hard enough to part a hobbit's hair."

Sam flushed. "I can recall a few lasses you sighed over, Tom, while we're thinkin' on happy times. Aster Banks springs to mind. One summer night in the mushroom woods..."

"All right," Tom said hastily. "No need to rake up old flames."

"Exactly," Sam agreed pointedly.

Tom drained his mug and looked longingly back at the barrel. "I've work to do at home," he said reluctantly.

"You've time for one more though," Sam said temptingly and Tom gave in.

Tom took a deep draught of his new ale and sighed appreciatively. "All jokin' aside, Sam, I wish you and Rose had made a go of it. You should see some of the fellows she's walked out with. You'd make a better brother-in-law than any of them."

Sam raised his mug, touched. "I couldn't have had better in-laws than you and your folks, Tom, and that's the truth. Not sure the ones I have now entirely approve of me."

Sam looked over to where Bilbo was sitting at a bench, directing the hanging of the lanterns. Frodo stood by too, chatting with Pippin, absently jiggling up and down a bit and patting the crying baby's back.

Tom followed his gaze curiously. "So it's true then, about you and Mr. Frodo?"

Sam shot him a glance, unable to tell from his voice what his old friend was thinking.

"It's true."

Tom whistled. "You've fallen on your feet there, old son," he mused. "There's wealth in that family, and plenty of it."

Sam shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Wealth?"

"That house alone would be worth getting wed for, were I the type to attract a well-off lass," Tom went on thoughtfully. "Then there's the gardens and the land."

"Tom!" Sam protested. "I'm not with Frodo for what he owns!"

"Well, I know that," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "I know you, Sam Gamgee, and it wouldn't even have crossed your mind that you're set for life."

"But it's crossed your mind?" Sam asked. He cast a glance around at the laughing workers, the sunny field, his laughter fading "Is that what folks are thinkin' about me? That I'm out for what I can get?"

"Do you really want to know what folk are saying, Sam?" Tom said, face sympathetic. "Some of it's a lot uglier than out for what you can get."

Sam sipped at his mug with a sigh. He'd known it was going to be difficult, but somehow when he was with Frodo it was a lot easier to be strong.

"Don't worry, Sam," Tom said, punching him gently on his arm. "Your friends aren't speaking behind your back, and you still have plenty of them."

Sam looked up into his friend's face. Tom's smile was as genuine as it had always been, his brown eyes were open and clear.

"Mind you, they're wonderin' what's goin' in on your head, Sam," Tom said, scratching his own head in puzzlement. "I've been wonderin' myself! But don't worry about them fools flapping their gums about you. They'll tire of the gossip soon enough and remember everything you and your Frodo did for the Shire."

Sam decided he liked the sound of that. His Frodo. "And you, Tom?" he ventured. "Is it really that easy for you?"

"Easy?" Tom squinted over to where Frodo was standing laughing, his head thrown back. "I was never so surprised in my life as when I heard your news, Sam. I near punched the fellow who passed it on." Tom shook his head. "Not old Sam, I says to meself. Might not have had much nerve with the lasses but it was surely only lasses he looked at growin' up. I should know, I was there."

Sam followed his gaze to Frodo, who was now crooning to Fael and rubbing his back soothingly. The sunshine gleamed in his chestnut curls and his skin shone like a pearl in the light.

"You were," Sam agreed. "But that was a long time ago, Tom. What a long time ago it was."

"It was," Tom said sadly. "A whole lot's changed since then, hasn't it, Sam lad?" Tom sighed and looked beyond Frodo and Fael to the small budded sapling now gracing the party field. "We had some hard times while you were away, some you know and some you might never get to hear about. Some of us learnt some hard lessons."

Sam studied his friend's face curiously. It looked older in the morning light. "Like?"

"Like it don't matter what anyone else thinks, as long as you do what you reckon is right. Like being happy is all that matters, and that's worth holdin' on to. And sometimes you've got to fight for what's worth holdin' on to."

Sam nodded, smiling a little into his ale. "Tom lad, I couldn't have put it better myself."

~***~

Sam pushed open the door, rubbing his neck with the towel draped around his shoulders. Frodo was standing in front of the round mirror holding up a waistcoat and frowning. He tossed it over a chair back and held up another.

Smiling, Sam pushed the door closed and quietly twisted the key.

"The blue one," he suggested, and Frodo glanced over his shoulder. "It goes with your eyes."

Frodo held it back up and surveyed himself critically. "It's one of my older ones."

"You got it in Minas Tirith," Sam reminded him. He stood behind Frodo and looked over his shoulder into the mirror. "It's not that old."

Frodo grimaced. "It's a little tight," he admitted, laying a hand on his belly. "Here."

Sam rested his chin on Frodo's shoulder. "Well, I'd lend you one of mine but it would definitely be a bit loose." He chuckled. "You either need to lose some weight or gain some," he joked.

Frodo lay his cheek on Sam's head. "That's not funny."

Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and spread his hands over Frodo's middle. "I like you all soft and round," he whispered. "It reminds me why you have this sweet little tummy."

Frodo squirmed under the caressing hands. "Oh, no you don't," he protested. "We have to get dressed and get Fael ready-"

"Fael is still fast asleep," Sam said, turning Frodo around in the circle of his arms.

"For now," Frodo pointed out, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "Remember last night?"

Sam pulled him closer and groaned at the contact. "Oh. I am," he whispered. "That's the problem." He slid his hands down Frodo's back, stroking through the thick material of his dressing gown. "We have time."

Frodo let himself be pushed backwards until he was pressed against the wardrobe door, tilting his head back as Sam nuzzled into his neck.

"It's broad daylight," he protested, but his voice was weaker and his hands slid up to Sam's broad back.

"You like the sunlight," Sam pointed out, pressing a string of kisses like a necklace down to Frodo's throat.

"The door's unlocked," Frodo gasped as Sam stroked his tongue into the hollow of his throat. He spread his legs and Sam pushed in between them, aligning their bodies and pressing into the cradle of his thighs.

"No it's not," Sam informed him. Then he slid his hands down to the back of Frodo's thighs and with a grunt he lifted him and pinned him against the door with his weight.

Thrown off balance Frodo grasped his shoulders and automatically wrapped his legs around Sam's waist, wringing a groan from both of them as his dressing gown pulled open.

"Sam," Frodo moaned. "What are you doing?"

Sam pulled his head back and peered into dazed blue eyes. "If you have to ask then I'm not doin' it right," he panted.

"I mean, there's a bed right there," Frodo said, breath hitching as Sam shifted his hips. He gasped another moan as Sam managed to loosen the tie of his own robe and tug it sideways, so that their naked flesh was pressed together.

"Hmm?" Sam hummed into his neck as his small movements became thrusts, sliding against Frodo's slick warmth with his own.

"Never mind," Frodo moaned, throwing his head back and giving in to it.

Sam grasped handfuls of Frodo's robe and pulled it down, heart racing in time with his thrusts as he kissed pale shoulders and cupped the narrow ribcage, thumbs finding hard nipples and stroking them roughly.

Frodo's hands could only grip Sam's shoulders as he held on, legs locked tightly around sturdy hips as Sam bucked and rocked against him.

Sam felt the quiver that ran through him as Frodo's healthy young body succumbed, shuddering as he pulsed wet warmth between them. The pleasured groans finished Sam off and he moaned his own pleasure against Frodo's shoulder, teeth grazing as he pressed an open mouthed suckling kiss on pale freckles.

Frodo's legs unlocked and Sam slid him down his body until his feet hit the floor, supporting him against the door with the weight of his own panting body.

"Told you we had time," Sam said breathlessly and Frodo could only hum agreement, his cheek stroking like a cat's against the smooth velvet of Sam's dressing gown.

~***~

Sam lay back on the bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Bother Merry and Pippin," he grumbled. "All I want is a quiet evening by the fire and an early night."

Frodo shook out Fael's tiny shirt and laid it out neatly. "You'll enjoy yourself once you get there," he said absently, lifting out a small pair of britches and holding them up. "Do you think he needs these? That shirt is still a bit long on him."

"You could put on one of the gowns Daisy gave him," Sam said carelessly, closing his eyes and settling back on the pillow. He started up as Frodo threw the little britches at him and they draped over his face.

"If you even think about falling asleep after you've made us late," Frodo threatened. "Then the next thing I tip on your head will be the vase."

"All right." Sam swung his feet off the bed and tightened his robe. "I'm up, all right?" He looked around the room. "What should I wear?"

Frodo rolled his eyes. "I have to dress myself and Fael," he said pointedly. "Do I have to dress you too?"

Sam smothered a laugh and stood up with a pleasurable stretch. "Remind me next time I fancy an afternoon tumble that it does nothin' for your mood," he retorted.

Frodo blew out a breath and smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said, sitting back down on his dressing chair with a bump. "I'm a bit nervous about tonight, that's all."

Sam opened the wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt he put his hand on. "Why? Your closest family is right here and on our side already. Is there really anyone else here whose opinion you care for?"

"No, but there are folk you care about," Frodo said softly. "I'd hate if what we have together came between you and those you love, Sam."

Sam paused and looked over at him, his eyes soft. "It won't," he promised. "Da will bluster and shout, believe me, he's not done with me over this yet. But in the end he'll stand by us."

"You seem very sure," Frodo said doubtfully.

"Trust me, I know my dad," Sam said, voice confident. "Doesn't mean he won't make me work for it, mind. Daisy too. There's a lass who likes to think she's the only one as can make things happen. Boxed my ears so hard the first time we come home my head was ringin' for a week. But mad as she might get at me, she'd fight to the death to protect me and those I love."

Sam pulled out a jacket and hugged it to him. "Didn't we go through all this afore we ever left Rivendell? You sorry now we've come home so open like?"

"No," Frodo denied instantly. "Of course not. But Rivendell was so far away, making the decision was easy. Now we're here and have to face everybody..."

Sam studied him. "What's the worst as could happen?" he asked reasonably.

"Well let's see, we get shunned by our friends and neighbours," Frodo said thoughtfully. "Cold silences when we drink at the Dragon, mud slung at us in the road..."

Sam had to laugh, shaking his head in amazement. "You've been readin' too many of them elf books," he accused. "Full of sad tales and princes what take offence if someone farts out of place."

Frodo huffed a small chuckle.

Sam shook his head again. "Let me tell you the worst as could happen," he said patiently. "Folk'll smile and nod to our faces and whisper behind their hands as we walk on. Fools like Will Bracegirdle or Young Odo will get a few ales down their necks and make loud comments about what we do behind closed doors. And maybe, if we're real unlucky, we might get some bold soul come to lecture us about the error of our ways, although to tell you true I can't think of any offhand who'd have the nerve to knock on the door to Bag End to do it. If we was living in some little hole on The New Row, maybe."

Frodo was listening hard. "You really think that's all there will be to it?"

"What do you mean all?" Sam demanded. "I can feel my blood boil already thinkin' on how some of those sneers will go. Trust me, it won't be fun or easy being laughed at, even if most folks have the decency to do it behind our backs."

Frodo's cheeks flushed a little. "You think folks will sneer?"

Sam sighed. "We're different, Frodo, just plain different. And folks don't like what's different. Laughin' at it is just one way to make themselves feel better over it."

"The way they did when I first moved here," Frodo recalled. "I was a strange foreigner, and a lot of folk made jokes behind my back, when they thought I couldn't hear them."

"And a few when they knew you could," Sam said sadly. "I know. That's why I have a good idea of how it will go with us. I was there, love, when you first arrived and folks tried to run you down." Sam's hands clenched into fists at the memory. "I was too young to know what to do about it all, but it sure made me mad. And it made me feel real bad that they was hurtin' your feelin's so."

"Dear, Sam," Frodo said with a soft smile. "You've always been my champion, haven't you?"

"I don't know about that," Sam said hastily, cheeks reddening. He fussed about pulling out a pair of britches.

Frodo stood determinedly. "They can't hurt my feelings now," he said firmly. "If you can bear it I can too."

"That's my lad," Sam said huskily. "It'll be a nine days wonder, you'll see. And maybe it won't even be so bad. Some things Tom said made me think maybe the Shire's changed a bit after all the troubles. Perhaps folk will be a bit more acceptin' now?"

"Perhaps," Frodo agreed. He focused on the britches Sam was holding. "You can't wear them," he declared. "Or that jacket. The dark green one is your best, with the mustard waistcoat."

Sam obediently hung the britches back up, hiding his smile.

"I'm going to have to wake Fael," Frodo said reluctantly. "I hope it doesn't make him grumpy. I don't want him grizzling all night."

Sam dressed quickly while Frodo eased Fael out of his basket and held him against his chest, kissing his soft pink cheek lovingly.

"Wake up, my baby," he crooned into the little pointed ear. "We want to get you all dressed up in your finery. Make folk jealous that we have the handsomest lad in the whole world."

Fael snuffled and snorted awake, his face screwing up into a grimace. Frodo was ready with the tip of his finger and Fael latched on and nursed absently for a moment, the familiar motion soothing his fretful waking. His little face smoothed out and he fluttered his lashes and yawned around Frodo's finger.

"His elvish shirt?" Sam asked, buttoning his waistcoat.

"Yes," Frodo said, laying him Fael back on the bed and unlacing his little gown at the neck. "And that silvery bonnet with the acorns embroidered on it."

"You really do want to impress," Sam observed, hunting up the little cap and admiring it. "Still, he might as well wear it while it fits."

Frodo pulled the nightgown over the baby's head, smiling down into Fael's blinking eyes. "Peep-bo!" he exclaimed and Fael blinked again and then smiled. "He is growing fast. He must weigh almost twice as much as he did when he was born."

"Not quite yet," Sam said knowledgeably. "But soon enough. "We should weigh him tomorrow, I'll ask Daisy tonight to look out her scales for us."

"Good idea," Frodo said, pinning the fresh napkin in place and holding out his hand for the shirt. "Better get him a bib too, just to be on the safe side."

Sam found a crisp white one with a blue bird embroidered on the front and handed it over.

Frodo was pulling the shirt over Fael's head and lacing it deftly. "Almost fits," he smiled into wide blue eyes. "You must be just about as big now as an elf baby is when born, Fael."

Fael's clutched at the soft fabric, cooing bubbles at the feel of it under his fingers. Frodo fit the little cap on his golden curls and sat him up, hands holding him in place while his nodding head steadied itself. "There you are, my lad," he said proudly, and he lifted Fael high and held him out to admire.

"What a handsome hobbit!" Sam exclaimed.

Frodo paced to the mirror and Sam followed him, wrapping one arm around his waist as Frodo held Fael to his heart.

"What a handsome family," Frodo said in satisfaction.

~***~

"Sit down, lads," Bilbo said, waving to the kitchen chairs.

"We're going to be late," Frodo began.

"How can you be late to your own party?" Bilbo pointed out. "Sit down, sit down, I want to have a few words with you."

Sam raised a curious brow at Frodo but obediently sat down.

"I've been thinking a lot lately about the last time I returned to the Shire after a long time away. Noticing how some things have changed and some things are very much the same." Bilbo shook his head reminiscently, his eyes growing distant. "Your lad there will grow up in a different world than I did, and maybe even different from the one you both did. But then I grew up in a different Shire from my old father's so maybe that's always true, I don't know." The old hobbit sighed.

Frodo exchanged a glance with Sam and risked getting a word in. "Are you all right, Bilbo?"

Bilbo gave him an offended look. "Of course I am. If you'd listen without interrupting you'd know that. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. When I came back from my journey, long ago, it was to find I'd lost a lot of standing in the community. Suddenly I wasn't as respected as I once was, can you credit it? As if a few adventures make a chap disreputable."

"You wrote in your book that you didn't care what folks thought of you," Sam reminded him.

"And so I didn't, for the most part," Bilbo said firmly. Then his proud look faded and he seemed a little older and sadder all of a sudden. "For the most part," he said more quietly. "But to tell you the truth there were a few friends I was sorry to lose, a few relations I thought might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Why, Frodo, there were even some folk who thought I shouldn't take you in, rascal that I was!"

"They were wrong," Frodo told him, reaching out and gripping a frail old hand. "You taking me in was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Bilbo gripped his hand back tightly. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said hoarsely. "After everything that happened I wondered if..." He cleared his throat and squeezed Frodo's hand again before letting it go. "It's too early for such sentiment," he said gruffly. "What I'm trying to say is that some folk out there are going to be your friends, no matter what you do. But some folk just aren't. And it's no good breaking your hearts over the ones who turn against you, lads."

"We do understand that, Uncle," Frodo assured him.

"You think you do," Bilbo said mildly, then he waved his hand. "Oh, forget I said anything. Just you two stick together and you'll be fine. So, what exactly are we telling folk about Fael?"

"The truth," Sam said simply. "If anyone asks whose son he is..."

"They will," Bilbo interrupted.

"Then we tell them. He is our son."

"Hmm," Bilbo said skeptically. "And if they ask for details? We were there, we know how it was, but it might be a bit more difficult for simpler folk to accept the whole truth."

"He's right, Frodo," Merry said from the doorway. He and Pip stood side by side. "For Fael's sake if no other reason. It might be best if we kept some of it back."

"The part about you being pregnant he means," Pippin said helpfully.

"I'm not ashamed of it," Frodo began.

"Course you're not," Bilbo said scornfully. "We here know that, none better. And Merry and Pip weren't even lucky enough to see you carrying him, which would convince anyone."

"I wish I had," Pippin said wistfully.

"That wasn't our fault," Merry muttered.

"We don't want to lie about any of this," Sam said unhappily. "But to be honest I can see your point. I meant to tell my dad the other day but I just couldn't get the right words out." He shrugged awkwardly.

"You might get away with your living arrangements as time goes by," Bilbo pressed. "But if the whole truth comes out it's little Fael who will bear the burden, his whole life."

Frodo tightened his arms around his son, laying his cheek on downy curls. "He's my son," Frodo said softly. "And Sam's too. How can we say otherwise?"

"Don't," Pippin said swiftly. "Why don't you just tell everybody a smaller part of the truth? He's a gift from the elves, to heal you, Frodo."

"Folk will want to know more," Sam said doubtfully.

"Let them!" Bilbo said grandly. "Just look mysterious and talk in hushed tones about elven magic."

"That would convince me," Pippin agreed.

Merry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It could work," he said. He frowned at Pippin. "If everyone keeps their mouths shut."

Pip widened his eyes. "Don't look at me! I can keep a secret."

Sam looked at Frodo. "What do you think?"

Fael was shifting sleepily in his arms and Frodo cupped his little head gently and gazed down into his face. Great blue eyes were blinking up at him, sleep creased cheeks curving as he yawned. Frodo couldn't help smiling tenderly down into that innocent little face. What did it matter what they had to say to keep him safe? As long as neither of them had to deny him.

"You're right," he said decisively. "And it is the truth after all."

"Then let's get this party started!" Bilbo exclaimed, climbing to his feet and leaning on his stick.

~***~

"Frodo, let me take Fael?" Pippin said as they made their way down the lane.

"I want to carry him into the party," Frodo protested, fending him off.

"You're going to need your arms free," Pippin said and Frodo paused and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's a surprise," Merry told him and Frodo glanced from him to Pip and then to Sam.

"Don't look at me," Sam said hastily, raising his hands in denial. "I don't know nothin' about any surprise."

"What have you done?"

"If we told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Pippin said, reaching for the baby again.

"I'll take him," Sam said, plucking Fael from Frodo's arms. "I'm not sure I trust one of your surprises."

"Can we get there already?" Bilbo said in exasperation.

Frodo allowed himself to be led by Pippin while Merry lent Bilbo his arm and Sam carried the baby in one arm and his basket hooked over the other. They could hear the laughter and song from the Party Field as they approached, and see the shimmering of the lanterns in the trees.

"That looks like a lot more lanterns than I put up," Frodo said, looking around suspiciously for the surprise. He didn't have long to wait. Music paused as they walked into the midst of the party and then suddenly they were surrounded by hobbits.

"Welcome home!" they all shouted and Frodo gasped in shock as he made out face after familiar face.

"Mosco! Moto!" Stunned he looked around at his family, folk he hadn't seen in years. "Angelica! Sancho!" He turned dazed eyes on a grinning Merry. "How did you do this? We've only been home three days!"

"We sent a message off at the first farm we stopped at when we crossed the border into the Shire!" Pippin burst out proudly.

"We only had to send one message," Merry said with a wink. "And this helpful fellow here arranged the rest." He stepped aside revealing a new figure and Frodo's surprise melted into pure joy.

"Freddy!"

Fatty Bolger stepped out with a grin and pulled Frodo into a rough hug.

"Frodo, dear chap," Fatty said, his eyes full of tears. "How dare you go haring off into the wide world again!"

"That's what we said, Freddy," Pippin said, hanging off Fatty's shoulder. "Without even asking us to come along!"

"As if you would have come," Frodo reminded him, his heart light at seeing his old friend. "You like to stay close to home."

"And he needed feeding up," Merry said from his other shoulder, patting Freddy's ample girth.

"Had to make up for lost time." Fatty beamed and they all chuckled.

"Did you know about this, Bilbo?" Frodo turned to his cousin then had to chuckle at the sight. Poppy Bolger was clinging to Bilbo's neck, sobbing onto his shoulder. Bilbo's eyebrows were raised in dismay as Poppy alternately welcomed him and scolded him for his long absence. "I suppose not," Frodo concluded.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck you'll pay for this," Bilbo threatened as Poppy was gently prised away by Freddy. Almost immediately another relative flung themselves on his neck and Bilbo gave up and submitted to the tearful hug.

"Well you would disappear on us," Freddy teased.

"Literally," Merry reminded him.

Frodo's eyes sought Sam and he smiled as he saw him surrounded by his own relatives, feeling a little jealous at the sight of them cooing and clucking at Fael over Sam's broad shoulder.

"I need a drink!" Bilbo called and everyone around roared agreement.

Drinks were dispensed and Frodo clutched his mug, grateful as conversations began between relatives. He pushed through the crowd towards Sam, smiling and nodding his greetings as he was slapped on the beck.

"Made it," he gasped and Sam pushed out a bench for him to sink onto.

"So much for a small party," Sam said, patting Fael on the back. The baby was grizzling a little and Frodo reached out and straightened his bonnet. "He's getting hungry, poor lamb."

"He's never been around so many people either," Frodo agreed, pulling the basket towards him and rummaging for a bottle.

"Frodo!" Merry said, sinking onto the bench next to him. "Why have you snuck away? There's family you haven't hugged yet."

"Fael's hungry. Besides, we have all night for hugs." He glanced over at Sam. "You really didn't know about this?"

"Of course not," Merry jumped in. "As if we'd trust Sam to keep a secret from you!"

Sam accepted the bottle and pressed the teat to Fael's eager lips. Instantly the baby latched on and began to nurse blissfully. "You're right there," he agreed. "I'm not one for surprises myself."

Merry made a face. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Do come, Frodo, make the rounds."

"I'll be along in a minute."

"You really were surprised, weren't you?" He grinned and Frodo smiled back.

"Stunned. Thank you, cousin."

Merry stood up as the music began to play once more. "Glad you liked it." He turned away then spun back. "By the way, some of the family are staying at Bag End tonight, I knew you wouldn't mind."

"What?" Frodo looked at the dozen or so Baggins and Boffins and Tooks and Brandybucks. "How many?"

Merry shrugged carelessly. "Not sure," he said, backing away and beginning to sway to the music. "There's plenty of room, especially if we double up."

Sam looked up from the feeding. "What?"

Merry winked and spun away.

"Doubling up?" Sam said to Frodo.

"I'll take care of it," he promised. Frodo peered over at Fael as Sam pulled the bottle away and patted the baby's back gently. "I'd better go hug some aunts," he began, but before he could stand the party had moved to them.

"Is this the newest Baggins I've been hearing about?"

"Hello Aunt Peony," Frodo said, standing and submitting to a peck on the cheek.

"Another golden haired babe," his aunt said disapprovingly. "Seems to be the fashion these days."

"It's elf magic, Peony," Pearl Took said, leaning over Sam's shoulder. "Who's a pretty little lad then?" she cooed.

"Oh, magic," Peony sniffed. "It's all I hear about these days."

"Wouldn't have had such a fine year without it," Daisy Green said from across the table and Peony stared at her in outrage.

"We've had fine years before," she said, eyebrows raised. "Anyway, elf magic or not at least he's got the Baggins face on him, that's something."

"Much more Took to me," Pearl said thoughtfully. "Like our Frodo here."

"More Brandybuck to my eyes," Beri Brandybuck interjected and Frodo blew out a sigh.

Sam finished feeding Fael and the hobbitling drained the bottle and was carefully burped again.

"I think you'll find," Daisy said from across the table. "That's a Gamgee chin you're looking at."

"Here we go," Sam murmured, taking the cloth Frodo handed him and wiping Fael's chin.

"You're joking, lass," Beri said patronisingly. "That's a Baggins."

"Gamgee," Marigold Gamgee interjected at her sister's shoulder.

"Actually," Sam said firmly. "His name is Traveller. Fael Traveller. Like his parents."

Daisy frowned across the table. "You've changed your name, Sam?"

"We both have," Frodo said.

"And what was wrong with the Baggins name?" his aunt demanded.

"A new name for new times, Peony," Bilbo said, putting a hand to Frodo's shoulder and one to Sam's. "Budge up, lads, make room for an old hobbit. Maybe if I squeeze in between you two I won't get my neck hugged again by every weeping relative between here and Bree."

Frodo relaxed a little as his uncle patted his shoulder. He cast a glance at Sam who shrugged ruefully. So much for taking anything their families could throw at them. Still, he hadn't expected to face virtually every relative he had tonight. He was beginning to understand why Sam disliked surprises so much.

"Now what's everyone getting so excited about?" Bilbo said genially. "Beri, fill my mug for me, there's a good lad. Sam's is empty as well."

Beri took the two mugs reluctantly and trotted off to the barrels of ale.

"Everyone's just admiring the new baby, Bilbo," Peony simpered. "Who do you think he looks like?"

"Oh, babies all look the same to me," Bilbo said airily. "But tell me, Peony, how's that rascal husband of yours? Is he here?"

"Check under the ale barrel," Pearl giggled and Peony glowered at her.

"Coming to dance, Frodo?" Pippin said, swinging over and tousling Frodo's hair.

"I think I'll eat first," Frodo said carefully. "Shall I get you a plate, Sam?"

"Please." Sam glanced around and dropped his voice. "Don't go too far, all right?"

Frodo suppressed a smile and patted his shoulder.

"That sounded like an interesting discussion." Freddy was leaning against the food table and Frodo smiled at him as he began to fill two plates. "Did I hear right? You've changed your name?"

"That's the least of the changes since I saw you last, Freddy." Frodo studied his friend and cousin. "You look a lot better than you did back then, old friend."

"Look who's talking!" Freddy exclaimed. I must admit to some concern when Merry began telling me what you'd been up to. But a chap would have to be blind not to see you're as well as can be." He cast a glance over his shoulder to where Sam sat, downing an ale while Pippin cradled Fael in his arms. "I wish you'd told me you were going off again, Fro. Joking aside I'd have come with you like a shot."

"Would you, Freddy?" Frodo said gratefully. "I'm sorry it was all done so quickly."

"I forgive you," Freddy said generously, helping himself to a plate. "I don't think Merry has yet, mind."

"We must all get together after the relatives have gone home. I want you to meet my son." Frodo smiled proudly. "And get to know Sam better."

"Not just as a servant you mean?"

Frodo turned and faced his cousin squarely. "Sam was never just anything, Freddy," he said quietly. "We share our lives now, Sam and I. I hope you can accept that."

Freddy slid a slice of pie onto his plate and then straightened. "The way Merry has?"

There was a cheer from the stage and the hobbits turned and saw Pippin join the band and pick up a rebec. He began to strum and the rest of the band cheered and joined in.

"That show off Took," Freddy said fondly. "I'd better finish this or I'll miss asking all the prettiest girls for a dance." He winked at Frodo and turned to walk away.

"Freddy?" Frodo called.

"Later, Fro," Freddy said, waving his fork over his shoulder. "We'll talk later."

Frodo watched him go, a trickle of unease down his spine. After Merry and Pippin and Bilbo, Freddy was the closest family and friend he had. Was it possible that he could lose his old friend over this?

He made his way back to the table and put the laden plate in front of Sam, feeling his own appetite diminish. Fael was laying in his basket, kicking his legs and waving his arms vigorously.

"He's back in a good mood now that his belly is full," Sam said, reaching for his fork with an appreciative sigh. "This all looks tasty."

Frodo took a bite of pie, letting Fael grab one of his fingers absently.

"So that was a turn up for the books, hey?" Sam said around a mouthful. "Here I was worried our families wouldn't accept him and now they're fighting over him."

"I wouldn't read too much into that from my side of the family," Frodo said. "They'd fight over a teapot if they thought someone else wanted it."

Sam snorted a laugh and Frodo relaxed. It was always so easy here at Sam's side. Much as he loved his family it was even easier when it was just the three of them, his new little family alone.

"Kind of makes you homesick for Rivendell, doesn't it?" Sam said lowly and Frodo huffed a laugh.

"You can read my mind like a book, Sam," he admired.

"No, just your face," Sam returned. "Fatty Bolger had a thing or two to say to you, I reckon."

"It's more what he didn't say." Frodo tried another forkful of pie and decided it was pretty good. "I think we've been spoiled so far with our close family, Sam. They've all accepted us."

"Well, I don't know as that's entirely true." Sam took a sip of ale. "The way I see it your family is just glad you're alive, and who could help but love Fael? Me bein' involved is somethin' they're all still chewin' over." He paused thoughtfully. "Except maybe Pippin. Say what you like about that lad, he's not one to hide his feelin's."

"But you think Bilbo and Merry are?" Frodo asked seriously, remembering what Freddy had said about Merry.

"Well I haven't noticed Mr. Bilbo hiding much of anythin'," Sam allowed. "But you can't tell me he wouldn't have been just as happy if that spell had been cast and we'd gone back to the way things were. Or at least how they think they were."

Frodo thought about it while he finished his plate. "I suppose it's too much for them to understand," he said softly, eyes on the dancing crowd. "That going back didn't come into it." He titled his head and looked at Sam. "That where we are now isn't so very different from where we were then."

Sam let Fael's other hand grasp his finger and then looked up into Frodo's eyes. "Maybe we didn't explain it very well," Sam agreed. "That when we set out to make our baby it was with love. That we couldn't have made him at all if we hadn't loved one another all along."

Frodo nodded. "And that all the rest was just inevitable."

"You think that?" Sam asked curiously. "That we were bound to fall in love, even without making Fael?"

"I hope that's true." Frodo let his hand stroke against Sam's. "I can't imagine it not being true."

Sam smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners and Frodo's heart melted all over again. "I'm thinkin'," he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I'm thinkin' I'm awfully glad I made us late this evenin'."

Frodo felt his cheeks flush with remembered pleasure. "You are?"

"Uh huh," Sam nodded. "Especially if we're goin' to be doublin' up tonight."

Frodo snickered into his mug.

"Here, I'll get us another," Sam offered, and Frodo drained his ale and handed the mug over. He tickled Fael and stroked his chin while he watched Sam stand in line at the huge barrel. Then he frowned as he saw Sam's back stiffen and his head swing around. Young Odo Proudfoot was leaning against the barrel, mug in hand, laughing loudly. Frodo watched in concern as Sam turned his head pointedly and stepped up to the barrel. He tensed, but Sam merely filled the mugs and made his way back to the table.

"That barrel's emptyin' fast," Sam observed as he sat back down.

"Sam?" Frodo began, and then paused. If Sam wanted him to know what had just happened he would tell him.

"Hmm?"

Frodo asked another question. "What about your family? What do they think of me?"

Sam drank deep and then wiped his mouth. "Honest, love? I don't know for sure. Can't imagine it'll be much different from yours though." He shot Frodo a glance. "Give 'em time," he counselled. "All of them."

"Yes," Frodo agreed, and then Merry was there again.

"Are you done eating yet?" he said impatiently. "I don't think I can hold the family off any longer. Unless you want them descending on you again..."

"I'll do my duty," Frodo said hastily. "They've got to be easier one or two at a time, right?"

"You keep telling yourself that," Merry advised. "Sam, do you want me to take Fael for a while? I can put him in the sling if you'd like?"

"Maybe later," Sam said. "If you slow down with that ale."

"This is only my second!" Merry protested.

"I've only had one, Sam!" Pippin said, dancing over. "I can hold him when you want a break."

"Nice playin', Pippin," Sam admired and Pip preened.

"I've been practicing," he admitted.

"Every night," Merry confirmed with a groan and then yelped and darted away as Pippin went for his ear.

"My family," Frodo said with a bow.

~***~

"Master Hamfast," Bilbo called. "We haven't said hello yet." He extended his hand and Ham took it and shook it firmly. "Sit down then, sit down," Bilbo invited. "You've got a few years before you catch up with me, Ham, but I'm sure your legs could do with the weight being taken off them."

"Aye, the old knees play me up a bit, when the wind blows cold," the gaffer admitted, sitting down and planting his tankard firmly on the table. He watched the dancers for a few minutes, supping his ale. "So, what do you think of all this foolishness then? Name changes and such like."

"Can't say I was happy Frodo dropped Baggins," Bilbo said candidly, smiling and raising his mug in a toast as someone hailed him. "But he's old enough to make up his own mind."

"And at least he wasn't changing it to Gamgee?" Ham said, casting him a wry look over the lip of his tankard.

Bilbo snorted. "That thought did occur to me."

"No disrespect, Mr. Bilbo, but you sure left some trouble behind you when you left!"

"No disrespect taken, Ham," Bilbo shot back. "But if you're trying to lay the blame for this on me-"

"Who else should I be blaming?" Ham said reasonably. "Let me teach him how to read, Master Hamfast. Boy's got a good mind on him, Master Hamfast, be a shame to waste it. Pah!" Ham shook his head. "Look where all that led? Elves and quests and spells. You and your darn dragons!"

"I don't see what dragons have to do with this," Bilbo said mildly. "And you were the one encouraging the boys to spend time together when I adopted Frodo. What did you think was going to happen?"

"Well not this," Ham said, indicating the whole party with a broad sweep of his arm. "I thought I was makin' the boy's future, ensurin' him a place as young Mr. Frodo's gardener same as I was yours."

Bilbo huffed a sour laugh. "This isn't exactly the future I envisaged for my lad either, Ham. But I can't complain too loudly, seeing as how he wouldn't have a future if not for Sam."

"But it don't set right with you either?" Ham said searchingly and Bilbo shrugged.

"Let's just say I wouldn't have been so worried if they'd just cast that spell and gone on with their lives. It was the falling in love that did it."

"Love," the gaffer said, rolling his eyes. "Is that what they're calling it?"

"Oh don't doubt it, Hamfast," Bilbo warned him. "Their feelings for each other were forged long before they made that baby together."

"I knew it!" Ham said, slamming his tankard on the table. "I knew it was more than just some elf spell. As if I didn't recognise Mr. Frodo's eyes looking up at me from my grandson's face! Bloody elves."

"They just cast the spell, it was Frodo and Sam that made it work. And like I said none of that would be a problem if they'd been able to make it and move on." Bilbo shook his head.

"And how was that going to happen?" Ham appealed. "There was no parting them the first time they got back. They was putting Bag End back together for the pair of them to move into, nice as you please. Never thinking how that might look to folk."

"I don't supposed it ever occurred to them seeing as how there wasn't anything going on between them back then."

"Know that for a fact do you?"

"I do," Bilbo said firmly. "Although knowing the two of them as I do now I doubt it would have stayed that way for long. The need for an elven spell might have bought them together, but I reckon it was only a matter of time anyway. Something binds those two lads together now. You can almost see it..."

"I saw it," Ham admitted reluctantly. "I was here to see it, unlike you. My Sam come back with his head full of ideas above his station and his eyes older than they should have been." The old hobbit sniffed and turned his head away. "I don't know what he saw and did in all his travels, I just know that it changed him. I don't know him any more."

Bilbo squeezed Ham’s old hand then tapped it smartly. "Don't talk nonsense, Hamfast! Sam's still your lad, even if he has grown up a bit more than he should have had to. And look at those eyes again, old fellow. It's only contentment you'll see now."

The gaffer sniffed and took a gulp of his ale. "He did seem a bit more settled, with his son in his arms." He gazed down into the dregs of his drink. "I'm that worried for him, Mr. Bilbo. For all of them come to that. My grandson too."

"I know," Bilbo said quietly, turning his own head away now and surveying the crowd. "But we can't live their lives for them, Ham. We must trust them."

"Not leaving us much choice, are they?" Ham heaved a sigh. "Another ale?"

Bilbo drained his mug and pushed it across the table. "Please."

~***~

Relatives were kissed, growing children were admired and tales were exchanged. Frodo checked back with Sam occasionally, watching as his friends and relatives clustered around him. He found Bilbo and sat gratefully next to him, wondering when he had lost his taste for parties. Right now he just wanted to be back in Bag End behind closed doors. Pippin brought Fael back when he started his tired grizzle and Frodo tugged him out of his sling and cradled him against his shoulder.

"There there," he soothed. "Ready for your bed, Fael?"

"Your baby's crying." Frodo looked down at a youngster he recognised as one of Daisy's brood.

"He's tired," Frodo said with a smile, leaning over as she stood on her tip toes to look at him.

"Nearly time for your bedtime too, button," her aunt Marigold said, tugging her bonnet.

"My sister Holly has golden curls as well," Bluebell said proudly. "My mam says she's a wonder. Where's his mam?"

Silence spread out from around him as curious folk caught the words and paused in their conversations, dozens of pointed ears flapping.

"He doesn't have one," Frodo said to her wide eyes. "He was a gift from the elves." He rocked the fussing baby and Fael quieted a little more. "And from your Uncle Sam," he finished simply.

"I usually just give flowers myself," Tom Cotton quipped from behind him and folk around chuckled.

"Since when did you ever pick me flowers, Tom Cotton?" Marigold Gamgee demanded indignantly.

"Oops, Tom," someone teased. "Must have been one of those other lasses."

"It better not have been," Marigold huffed, arms crossed.

"Seems a strange gift, Frodo," Freddy said flatly.

"You know the elves," Bilbo interjected. "It's all moonlight and magic to them. Create a life to save another life! Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Not I," Freddy said thoughtfully. He gave Frodo a strange look. "Don't hold with magic spells myself."

"Me either," Bilbo agreed. "But as it was magic that made young Frodo ill, seems only right it should be magic that made him well again."

"That's sense," Tom agreed, and folk up and down the table nodded.

~***~

Daisy helped herself to a plateful of cake and another mug of ale and sat down, blowing one sandy curl out of her eye. "Not a bad do," she observed, surveying her laden plate with satisfaction. "Considering the short notice."

"I wouldn't have come at all if my Rory hadn't dragged me along," May said, turning her nose up at the sight of Daisy's plate.

"I don't mind the party," Marigold said, forking down a mouthful of tart. "But I can't say I'm pleased at our Sam showing us up like this. And did you hear Mr. Frodo talkin' to your Bell? Gift from the elves and our Sam! What a thing to say!"

"Oh I've been hearin' about it," May said bitterly. "I ask you, did you ever hear the like? Elf spells makin' babies. I blame Sam. I'm sure it never occurs to him, selfish beast that he is, that this all reflects on us." She laid her hand on her pregnant belly. "My children will have to grow up with gossip flyin' about this so called cousin of theirs."

Marigold nodded vigorously, her reddish curls bobbing. "Think how it is for me," she pointed out. "When Tom and I wed Rosie Cotton will be my family. I have to look her in the face for years knowin' how cruelly she's been let down." Marigold looked right and left then lowered her voice. "And for another lad too. How embarrassing."

"That's exactly right, Marigold," May said self righteously. "This reflects on us all."

"I don't recall you all worryin' about reflectin' when it was glory shinin' your way," Daisy said conversationally, taking another sip of brew.

May clicked her tongue and Marigold blushed.

"That's right, you were swannin' around here then, weren't you? My brother the big hero, saved the Shire, plantin' magic trees with elf dust."

"That was different," Marigold protested.

"Because it was something you approved of?" Daisy challenged. "That makes no nevermind here, Marigold Gamgee, and Gamgee you still are until Tolman Cotton is foolish enough to give you his name."

"Daisy!" Marigold protested indignantly.

"You think on, lass," Daisy said. "Sam is our family and we stands by our family, understand?"

"You saying you approve of this whole thing, Daisy?" May challenged.

"Makes no difference whether I will or nill," Daisy said firmly. "It's our Sam's choice and that's all we have to know about it."

"That's just like you," May said bitterly. "You were makin' the biggest noise last year when he up and left again, and here you are defendin' him. Well I don't see anythin' worth defendin' here. Movin' into some fine house with his bed mate! Bringin' some poor little babe into the middle of it!"

Daisy's face softened as May grew more upset. "Calm down, lass," she advised. "It's not good for your wee'un."

May's face tightened. "And what about what's good for Sam's baby? Stories about elf magic flying around, it's all wrong. Magic shouldn't make babies, and two lads have no right to do something so reckless and selfish!"

Marigold looked alarmed now too. She laid a hand on her sister's arm. "Steady on there, May. Daisy is right, you need to worry about your own baby."

May stood up, her bench tipping and righting behind her. "Let me worry about my baby," she said fiercely, hands on her belly. She cast a look around and shook her head at them. "You stay here and pretend you approve of this when everyone in the Shire is staring and whispering. I'll not stay and be some spectacle." She turned and stamped away and Daisy put a hand on her sister's arm when she would have risen to follow her.

"Let her be," she counselled. "Our May has a few things to work out in her head before she can listen to her heart over this. And you, miss," she said ominously, turning a look on her sister.

Marigold quelled.

"I don't want to hear one word against Sam outside the family, understand?"

"But, Daisy," Marigold protested. "Tom-"

"One word!"

Marigold stuck out her lower lip. "Yes, Daisy."

~***~

"Sam," Frodo murmured. "I'm just nipping home for a cup of tea and to give Fael a break from the noise."

"Want me to come with you?"

Frodo looked over his shoulder and smiled. "I think someone's been waiting to have a quiet word with you, love."

Sam twisted around and saw his father staring at him. "Oh dear."

Frodo squeezed his arm. "Remember what you said before? He might give you a hard time but he'll be on your side."

"Is that what I said?"

Frodo squeezed his arm again and left him to it.

The gaffer strolled over. "Enjoying your party?" he asked casually.

"So far. You?"

"Passable, passable," the gaffer allowed. He reached into his waistcoat pocket. "I've a present for you, Sam." He handed over a leather pouch.

Sam took it and stroked the design stamped on it. "It's fine, da," he said huskily. "Just fine."

"Bring it along tomorrow and I'll put your new initials on it," Ham offered. "Not that I approve, mind." He pulled out his own pipe. "But what can't be cured must be endured, as my old father used to say. Have a smoke with me, lad."

"Yes, da." Sam untied the pouch, sniffing the contents appreciatively. "Your best mix!"

"Aye." Ham puffed comfortably while Sam lit his pipe.

Sam watched his father's eyes narrow against the smoke. They watched the party and the dancers, everything but him. He sighed. "You got something to say, da? Fael isn't here between us now, speak up."

"Don't I always?" Ham looked directly at Sam now. "Where do I start? How about you and Mr. Frodo, that's where it all began, isn't it?"

"I reckon it is."

"It's a hard row you've chosen to hoe, Sam," the gaffer said unhappily. "Folk are already talkin' and there's bound to be more. Not all of it real friendly like."

"I can't say we expected to be welcomed with open arms by the whole Shire, da. Frodo and I will be happy if just our family and friends can accept us. That would mean the world to us."

"You're my lad, Sam," Ham said gruffly. "I might not like everythin' you do but I'll still be on your side, just as I always have been."

Sam smiled. "I hoped you'd say that, da."

"But I reckon I wouldn't rest easy if I didn't tell you flat out that I think you're making a mistake."

"I hoped you wouldn't say that," Sam muttered.

"You're a father now, lad, you've got your son to think about! What kind of life is he going to have? Folk can be awful cruel to anythin' that's different."

"It might not seem like it to you, da, but we were thinkin' of Fael when we decided to come back as we did. New names and all."

"Folk might have given you the benefit of the doubt without that."

"Benefit of the doubt? You make it sound like we're doing somethin' wrong. My home is with Frodo and Fael, and I'm not about to hide that. Fael is my son and I'm not about to hide that either. Believe me, dad, folk would have noticed pretty darn quick that we were a family, even without the name change." He looked down at his pipe, trying to gather the right words. "I know you noticed his eyes, da. You've heard the talk about an elven spell..."

"If you're workin' up to tellin' me you made him together, Sam, don't bother. Mr. Bilbo let that cat out of the bag."

Sam blinked, trying to read his father's face. "What do you think about it then, da?" he asked tentatively.

Ham huffed a laugh. "Where do I start?" He waved a hand as Sam opened his mouth again. "Never mind that, Sam. The whys and wherefores of how that babby come into bein' don't matter no more. I trust that you thought you were doin' right makin' him. And now he's here and we wouldn't be without him."

Sam's heart swelled. "No, da," he agreed.

"But your family knowin' the truth is one thing, folk around here waggin' their tongues is another matter. Couldn't you have kept your fool heads down a bit, you daft beggar?"

"We decided when he was born that this was how it would be. All open and no lies. Lies just tangle everythin' up and have to be untangled and explained away later. Our backs are broad, da. We can take the whispers and the cruel talk. It'll all die down when we give them no more to talk about."

"Folk won't forget you know, even if things die down for a while. Good gossip never goes away, lad, it's always ready and waitin' to pop back up just when you think you're safe."

Sam set his jaw stubbornly. "We'll survive. We've survived worse."

"And your lad? Were you thinkin' about your lad at all when you made this choice?"

"It was for him that we made it," Sam said simply. "Because if it was just Frodo and me we would have kept our business to ourselves and not given a thought to other folk and their opinions about the way we live. But Fael has two parents, da, and two sides to his family. If we'd made his life a lie, which family would we have cut out? Mine? Frodo's? Would he have grown up a Baggins and never known you or his aunts and uncles and cousins? Or should Frodo have denied his own child, and have Fael grow up never knowing his Baggins family?"

Ham shook his head again, eyes worried. "I don't know," he admitted. "You can protect him now, Sam. You can wrap your arms around him and keep him safe. But what about when he gets older? When hard words and gossip behind hands will hurt him? What then?"

"We hope more than anythin' to spend our lives in the Shire," Sam said seriously. "We want our son to grow up the way we did. This is the best place in the world. But if things get too bad, well, there's other places in the world, da. And we can pack up our family and go there." Sam quirked his lips. "We're the Travellers now, after all."

"You'd do that?" Ham stared at him in surprise. "You'd leave your home?"

"Would you do any less for me, da? Or my brothers and sisters? Or mam too, if she was still alive?"

"But where would you go?"

"We've friends all over who'd take us in," Sam told him. "We've always a home with the elves, they told us that themselves. The King of Gondor told all four of us we have a place in his court any time we want it. I reckon he'll extend that to our son. And it's a big world out there, da. There are other places to live, although none of them hold a candle to home."

"You've changed so much, Sam," his gaffer said, staring hard. "That big world you're talking about changed you, and I'm not sure it was for the better. Once the Shire was your whole world and you knew how to live in it, what the rules were, what you had to do in it to get by. But now you think you live in a bigger world, and that just isn't so! You're crossing too many lines with this, lines you once knew better than to cross. Living with another lad, and one so far above your station, it's just going too far!"

The gaffer subsided and bit his lip, as if he thought he might have said too much. But Sam wasn't surprised, it was no more than he'd expected from his father and actually a little less heated than he'd thought it might be. Perhaps his talk of leaving had worried the old hobbit.

Sam turned his head to the edge of the field and looked down the road, eyes tracing it until it disappeared around the bend. He'd followed that road as far as it led and on still farther, until one day he'd found himself taking the one step that took him further from home than he'd ever been. Funny that it never occurred to him until now that each step after that had been the one that took him furthest.

He turned back to face his father, studying the old white haired hobbit clutching his worn pipe. All his life he'd loved and respected him, taking his words and advice as wisdom, listening to them and following them faithfully. He still loved and respected him, but he could no longer obey unthinkingly the words he'd hung on all his life. He walked a different road now, and each step was, in a way, still taking him furthest from home.

There was no going back.

He didn't want to anyway.

"I have changed, da," he said quietly. "I saw and did things you don't know, and could never imagine." He reached out and covered his father's hand, feeling the worn old skin under his fingertips. "There's no going back now. And even if there were, I wouldn't. I'm happy, da. I have everything I want."

"It will be hard," Ham warned him, but his hand turned and squeezed Sam's tightly.

"It will be," Sam agreed, squeezing back. "But with our friends and family around us it might be a bit easier. I've already told Fael he can always come to you if he needs to. That's still true, isn't it?"

Ham shook his head and pushed Sam's hand away. "Of course it is," he said scornfully. "It's not his fault if his father is a darn fool."

"Or if his grandfather is a stubborn old one," Sam shot back.

Ham surveyed him for a moment then stood up with a grunt. "I've had enough of serious talk," he pronounced. "I said I'd say my piece and I have."

"Yes, you have," Sam agreed, standing too. "Now in years to come you can say I told you so and it'll be true."

"That's enough sass from you, lad," Ham warned, knocking his pipe out against the seat. "Father or not I can still turn you over my knee."

"Yes, da," Sam said dutifully. He watched his gaffer stomp away, feeling lighter of heart. It hadn't been an easy discussion, but in a way it was a relief to have it over and done. Ham had indeed said his piece, although doubtless he would remember a few other pieces as well.

He wondered how Frodo and Fael were doing and then he wondered if he could sneak out and join him back at the house. It had been a long day and right now all he wanted was to close the door of their bedroom behind them and shut out the rest of the world.

~***~

May followed the lights and found herself at the top of the path. The doors of Bag End were wide open and she paused at the back door and peered in curiously. She'd never been in this fine house, although her father and her brother had been in and out for years. Once or twice she'd been in the gardens with the gaffer, but mostly the girls stayed home and helped their mam, or took care of the place once she was gone. It was the lads who worked with their dad in the gardens and orchards.

May put her hand on her swollen belly, feeling tired all of a sudden. The argument had given her a headache and the walk up the hill from the field had made her legs ache. On impulse she crossed the threshold and followed her nose to the kitchen.

A fire was burning low and it was the work of a moment to stoke it back to life and set the kettle over it. Quick exploration found a fine tea caddy and sugar bowl and in a few minutes May was sitting a the table drinking a welcome brew. She sighed, rubbing her temple with one hand. She regretted her quick words now, especially to Daisy. It just didn't pay to argue with her older sister, she never got angry, never shouted. She usually just waited until you had shouted yourself out and calmly made a comment that took the wind right out of your sails and left you feeling a darn fool. It was a rare gift.

It was just lately that May had felt her moods had been swinging widely. Rory just smiled and said it was the baby, but she saw the worried look in his eye. It was the same one she saw on her own face when she looked in the mirror, the same one she felt in her heart, that shortened her temper, made her so quick to snap.

"I see someone else had the same idea I did." Mr. Frodo stood in the kitchen doorway with a basket in his arms and a smile on his face.

Horrified, May jumped up.

"Don't let me disturb you," Frodo said genially, laying the basket tenderly on the table. May could see downy golden curls and a little pink hand. She looked away.

"I just fancied a cup of tea," she said apologetically.

"So did I," Frodo said fervently, taking a cup down from the dresser. He sat and poured himself a cup and May sat back down too, reaching for her own cup. "Too much smoke and singing for my sleepy lad too," he smiled, nodding to the basket.

"I shouldn't have just walked in though," May said looking down at her cup, wondering how quickly she could make an excuse and leave. She didn't want to be in this cozy kitchen with her brother's bed mate and their elf-magic baby. She wanted to be safe in her own home with Rory's strong arms around her, Rory's soft voice telling her everything would be all right, even if he didn't quite believe it himself.

"Don't worry about it." Frodo looked around the kitchen with a smile. "Everyone seems to wind up here in the end. If a home has a heart then it's the kitchen, don't you think?" He chuckled. "For hobbits in any case."

May shrugged, reluctant to agree with anything he said.

"So," Frodo said, nodding at her belly. "When will the baby come?"

May laid her hand on the swell. "June," she said. "That's when he's due." Baby kicked under her hand and she couldn't help the quick smile she gave. It was always a comfort to feel him moving.

Frodo chuckled and she glanced at him in surprise. He was nodding back down at her belly.

"I almost felt that from here," he marvelled. "He's a kicker, hey? Like my Fael was. We thought he'd kick his way right out!" He shook his head reminiscently and May stared. All of a sudden it occurred to her to wonder about this elf spell everyone was talking about. They all said it was amazing what elves could do, and that it was all worthwhile if it saved Mr. Frodo's life, but now she thought on it some more. Babies didn't just grow under cabbage leaves did they, no matter what Daisy had tried to convince her years before. Someone had carried that baby and given birth to him, and all of a sudden May wasn't sure she wanted to know the details.

Frodo must have felt her eyes on him, because suddenly he went crimson and looked down into his tea as if embarrassed. "Um, so," he said, rushing into speech. "Is this your first?"

May forgot her suspicions as the old pain washed over her. She laid her cup down on the table but kept both hands wrapped around it, to hide her shaking fingers.

"I was carryin' once before," she said quietly. "Durin' the troubles it was. But he come early, in the night, and we couldn't get a midwife to help."

Frodo was frozen, his wide blue eyes staring at her.

"We lost him," May finished, glad it was out and said and she could make her excuses and go.

"I'm so sorry," Frodo whispered, and May clenched her jaw and shot him a glance as she stood. Then she was the one frozen as she saw his face. His eyes were full of tears, his face stark and pale. Both his hands were clenched together on the table, she saw clearly the mutilated one was white with strain.

"Mr. Frodo?" she said in wonder and he started back into himself, turning his head and scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with his hand.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said hastily. "What a fool you must think me."

May sank back into her chair, his grief-etched face still clear in her mind. Why should he be so upset for her? He barely knew her, for all their new family connections.

"It - it was a long time ago," May said, searching for words to fill the gap. "Nearly two years now."

Frodo turned his pale face back to her. "I can't imagine how awful it must have been for you," he said quietly. "Two years or two hundred, it can't make a difference to the pain."

May opened her mouth to say something polite, but there was just something in his eyes, in his voice. His words said he couldn't imagine that pain but his eyes said differently. They understood, as no one else had. All the well meaning friends who changed the subject or left awkward silences, all the folk who told her briskly that she was young and would get over it. None of them had understood the way this young hobbit with his wide blue eyes understood.

Suddenly there were tears in her own eyes, spilling down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hand. With a soft exclamation Frodo reached out and touched her arm gently.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and May felt his sorrow and her own. She reached down and gripped his hand, crying out tears that felt as if they had been dammed up inside her for months. Baby kicked again and she snuffled a sob of laughter into her fingers.

"This one will be fine," Frodo said firmly, and she lifted her head and looked into his kind eyes. They believed what they were saying and she felt herself believe it too, felt his certainty transfer a little of itself into her.

"He will be," she agreed, hiccupping a little. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, chuckling damply. "I must look a mess!"

Frodo pulled out a kerchief and handed it to her. "You look fine," he assured her. "Have another cup of tea, you'll feel better for it."

He poured them both a fresh cup, stirring milk into his own. May knew she should feel embarrassed but she just felt better instead. The tension behind her eyes felt eased and she sighed and sipped her tea with appreciation.

"I haven't really cried like that since I found out I was carrying this one," she confided. "I guess it's been building up."

"Tears never hurt anybody," Frodo said. "Sometimes they even wash a bit of the pain away with them."

"Mr. Frodo," she began shyly.

"Frodo please," he corrected. "After all, we're family now." Then he looked away a little awkwardly. "Well, sort of family."

"Family," May said quietly, beginning to believe it herself. Daisy was right, Sam was her brother and she would stand by his choice. As it happened right now she thought he'd made a pretty fine one.

"Right," Frodo said softly, his eyes shining. "Family."

"So, Frodo," she said again. "Can I hold your baby?"

Frodo glanced at the basket and then back at May in surprise. "Of course you can." He stood and reached gentle hands into the basket, lifting the baby hobbit tenderly to his chest. "He's just waking up so he might be cranky," he warned.

May accepted the small bundle, drawing him to her heart and letting him rest in the crook of her elbow. He was yawning, his wide open mouth and pink gums drawing a helpless chuckle. Then he waved his fists and opened wide blue eyes, peering up at her. He blinked, then reached out with little pink fingers and smiled.

"Why, he does look like Sam," May exclaimed, surprised in spite of herself. It was one thing to know he was Sam's son, another to see it with her own eyes.

"He does, doesn't he?" Frodo said enthusiastically. "Look at that smile, it's the image of him. And the way his eyes crinkle at the corners? That's Sam."

"It is," May agreed. "But these are sure your eyes looking up at me, Mr. Frodo."

She glanced up into those matching eyes and they were chiding her.

"Frodo," she corrected shyly. "He- he really is your baby too, isn't he?"

"Yes," Frodo said proudly.

May looked down at the baby again in wonder. "Fael," she said, recalling the name. She felt a little ashamed, remembering how just hours earlier she had mocked how foreign it sounded. "What does that mean?"

"It's an elf word for describing the sunshine," Frodo said, reaching out and letting Fael take his finger. "I don't know if we have a word like it."

"Describing sunshine," May repeated in wonder. "Fancy that."

"Fael," Frodo said to his wide eyed son. "This is your Aunty May. She's got your new cousin inside her right now. You'll be good friends once he's born. You'll be older than him, so mind you take good care of him."

May laughed as Fael's absorbed little face seemed to take his father's words in.

"They will be cousins," she realised. She glanced at Frodo. "But it might be a girl cousin," she reminded him.

"Even more reason to take care of her," Frodo said.

"Hmph," May said, cradling the baby easily in one arm and picking up her tea. "Girls can take care of themselves just fine."

Frodo chuckled and sat back down. "You know, May, you're right. Fael's Aunty May will have a lot to teach him."

"If his Aunty Daisy ever lets me get a word in edgewise, I will do my best," May promised.

"You're right there too," Frodo said fervently, then he began to chuckle. May began to giggle and soon they were both laughing, and pouring another cup of tea.

~***~

Marigold greeted her with a relieved sigh. "There you are! I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," May said, sitting down and reaching for a piece of tart with new appetite. She licked her lips appreciatively. "Is this the one you made? It's good!"

"Thanks," Marigold said, sitting down opposite. "I fried the onions first, like you said." She frowned and shook her head. "Never mind that! I want to know what we're going to do about Daisy. She's laying down the law about all this business-"

"What business?" May said, finishing the slice of savoury tart and reaching for another.

Marigold stared at her. "What do you mean, what business? This business with our Sam!"

"Is his business," May finished firmly. "Daisy's right. It'll all be a storm in a tea cup." She remembered her own storm over tea a few minutes earlier and huffed a sigh. What had she been so angry about anyway? Sam was all grown up, he could take care of himself. She said as much to Marigold.

"Well you've changed your tune," her sister said, crossing her arms and sticking out her lip. "Between you and Daisy I don't know up from down these days."

"Don't you fret yourself, love," May said. patting her on the arm and heaving herself to her feet. "There's bigger things to worry about than two lads in love, that's for sure. Now, I'm going to find my Rory and see if we can fit one last dance in before they throw us all out."

Marigold sat for a minute with her arms crossed, but knowing her sister of old May paused and looked back over at her. Marigold frowned for another few seconds and then puffed out a breath. "Oh all right,' she said, flouncing her red curls. "I'll see if I can drag Tom away from his ale long enough to give me a dance as well."

Arm in arm May and Marigold went to find their own lads.

~***~

"I missed you," Sam whispered as Frodo joined him back at a table. "When can we sneak out d'you think?"

Frodo slipped his hand under the table and laid it on Sam's knee, squeezing gently.

"I've something to say." Hamfast Gamgee banged on the table with his mug and the hobbits around the field quieted, the music stopping.

"A bit late for speeches, isn't it?" Sam wondered, exchanging a curious look with Frodo. He covered Frodo's hand with his own where it lay on his knee and Frodo wondered what exactly Sam and the gaffer had spoken about earlier.

"You all know me," Ham said. "And you know there's some things I don't hold with."

Heads bobbed up and down the tables.

"I never held with folk going off to foreign parts and getting mixed up with foreign ways. But the time comes when an old hobbit has to admit he's wrong. It was our travelling lads that bought peace back to the Shire, aye, and the bumper year we've just enjoyed."

"I'll drink to that!" Milo Burrows slurred and folk chuckled.

Sam chuckled along with them and Frodo leaned closer and squeezed his hand. Then he happened to look up into Freddy Bolger's eyes. They dropped to where his and Sam's hands disappeared under the table and the stout hobbit raised a curious brow. Frodo returned it with a raised brow of his own, not wanting his face to show his disappointment. There was disapproval in Freddy's eyes, and something that was harder to put a name to. Frodo found that he didn't even want to try.

"So maybe there's something to be said for foreign parts," Ham admitted grudgingly and there were equally grudging nods of agreement from the older hobbits around him. Some young hobbits though nodded their heads eagerly and raised their mugs, eyes shining.

"I've never held with magic neither," Ham continued. "But if it saves Mr. Frodo's life then I'll not speak out against it. Nor should anyone else around," he said, his sharp old eyes scanning the crowd. Most folks there younger than him squirmed automatically on their benches, reminded of Ham's hard hand applied to the seats of cheeky young hobbits who scrumped apples from his trees.

"I've a gift for the returning youngsters," he said with a nod, and Sam's brothers lifted up a cloth covered shape and planted it on the table.

"I meant to make you a new one like you asked, son," Ham said, his eyes on Sam. "But I found this one in the shed and it cleaned up right nice." He pulled the cloth away and revealed a cradle, the old wood buffed up to a dark sheen, simple carvings of mushrooms and leaves adorning its sides.

"I lay in it meself as a babby," the gaffer said. "If you can believe it. And all my young'uns too. Now it's my grandson's turn."

Sam stared at the cradle for long moments, his heart in his eyes.

Frodo forgot everyone else at the party, all his attention was on Sam and the stunned joy on his face. No matter what Ham had said to him in private, this public display spoke volumes to every hobbit in the Shire.

"It's perfect, da," Sam said huskily and a cheer broke out.

"A toast!" Bilbo called out and he heaved himself to his feet.

"To all our travellers!" he said as everyone raised their mugs. "Especially our newest one. The Shire's a richer place for welcoming them back. Our travellers!"

"Our travellers!" Everyone roared and mugs were enthusiastically emptied.

~***~

Sam deposited the cradle in the middle of the floor and stood back to admire it. "I couldn't have made a better one myself," he pronounced.

Frodo grinned. "It is fine. But more than that it showed everyone that the gaffer was on our side. What did he say to you when you were alone?"

"Oh, pretty much what I expected," Sam said, sitting back on the bed with a weary sigh. "Can't blame him for wishin' everything was normal."

"Normal," Frodo said, laying Fael down in the old cradle. "What's that? And by the way, what did that fellow by the ale barrels say? I thought you were going to haul off and punch him."

Sam pulled a face. "Don't ask," he advised.

"Sam..."

Sam stood up with a groan and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "I mean it. I'm not gonna run mewling to you every time some fool makes a rude remark, any more than you will to me when you and Fatty Bolger have it out."

Frodo wished for once that Sam didn't know him quite as well as he did. "All right, love, I see your point. And I must admit I thought something similar myself earlier. I'm glad the party is over though, even though it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm glad Merry thought of it."

"Got a lot of it over and done with anyway."

They changed into their nightshirts and Sam climbed into bed but Frodo hovered over the cradle, eyes on Fael as his wide eyes blinked and his little hands waved, fingers flexing. Finally he gave into the urge and lifted him back up into his arms.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked in surprise as Frodo carried him over to the bed.

"Sam?" Frodo asked, climbing onto the bed and leaning back against him. "I was talking to May tonight."

"My sister May?" Sam frowned, wrapping his arms around Frodo and drawing him close. "She was givin' me some fierce frowns when we got to the party. Pay her no nevermind, love. She's made no secret of her disapproval."

"I think she's just been really unhappy," Frodo said softly. "She told me how she lost her baby, Sam. Back during the troubles she said."

"Daisy did tell me about it last year," Sam confessed. "And I felt bad for her and all. But..."

"It's amazing how your perspective can change, isn't it?" Frodo said softly, laying his cheek on Fael's soft hair. Sam wrapped his arms tighter around him from behind and Frodo leaned back against his chest with a sigh. "I told May I couldn't imagine it, but I could, Sam. I can remember all too well what it felt like with our baby still and cold within me. If we'd lost him then... Well, I don't know how anyone survives that."

"Me either, now," Sam said, shaping Fael's little head with his hand. "Poor May and Rory."

"You know, I don't remember too much from the day Fael was born. Just the pain and the weakness afterwards."

"And the blood," Sam said fervently. "Don't forget the blood."

"Were you frightened, Sam?"

Frodo heard Sam swallow hard, felt him nod into his hair. He seemed unable to speak and Frodo touched his hand gently.

"I remember being afraid too. That we'd put his life in danger with our spell. Isn't that funny? When his life wouldn't have been at all without us. But that's how I felt, as if anything that happened wrong would have been because of me."

"I was afraid for you," Sam said hoarsely. "There was so much blood, too much I thought for anyone to survive. After he was born safe you just seemed to fade away before me, getting colder and colder."

Frodo twisted and looked into Sam's face, seeing the pain of his memory there.

"I wrapped my arms around you, as if I could hold you in this world with just my strength."

"Oh, Sam."

"Do you know what I remembered, love?"

Frodo shook his head mutely.

"That promise you made me make you, when he was still safe inside you. That if anything happened to you I would go on, for his sake."

"I remember."

"I resented that promise," Sam said lowly. "Hated it. If you died on that bed then I wanted to follow you, and have them lay us in the ground together just like that, with my arms around you."

Frodo pressed his face to Sam's neck, trying to convey with his touch and love that he was safe now and all was well. "It's over, Sam. Our wish came true and we're all safe and well together in our home."

Sam took a deep breath and pressed his face to Frodo's hair again. "I know," he whispered.

"I never realised what you went though," Frodo admitted.

"You had your own hard work to do."

"I imagine it must be just as hard to be the one who has to watch and wait." Frodo looked down at Fael. "He's asleep. I should put him down."

"Lay him down between us," Sam said huskily. "I don't feel inclined to have him too far from us tonight."

Frodo smiled his relief. Sam always understood. He lay Fael down on the bed and put his head on the pillow, unable to stop touching his small flexing hands, his tiny pink fingers.

"You know what that party needed? Gandalf's fireworks."

Sam smiled reminiscently.

"Fael will never know them," Frodo continued sadly. "He'll never know Gandalf or Bilbo. He'll never know the Shire the way we knew it."

"Aye," Sam agreed. "And if I have owt to do with it he'll never know a dark journey like ours, or black riders and invaders on his doorstep. Gandalf and Bilbo did their part to give us a safe future. Best we look to it then, and not worry about the past."

Frodo smiled at him tenderly. "Dear Sam. Am I brooding again?"

"A bit," Sam admitted. "And you're not the only one. It's easy enough for both of us to brood about the past. But so long as we jog each other out of it and Fael is here to remind us why, then we'll get through."

"Yes." Frodo leaned over and kissed his lips, then kissed Fael on his softly flushed cheek. "And we can ask no more from the future than that."


	5. Seen Through The Heart

"Right," Pippin said, laying the last dish on the draining board. "One meal over, now we can start getting ready for the next. If we have any food left the way this lot eat."

"I'll be out of your hair soon enough," Freddy promised, sipping his tea.

"Oh, you're no problem, Freddy," Pip rushed to assure him. "I'm thinking more of the aunts and uncles. And this time tomorrow they'll all be on their way home, thank goodness."

"We better be making our own way home soon, Pip," Merry reminded him, drying the last dish and placing it on the dresser.

Pippin grimaced. "I know."

"No need to hurry on mine and Sam's account," Frodo told them, tilting Fael's rapidly draining bottle as the hobbitling fed voraciously. "You're all welcome as long as you like and as often too."

"Thanks, Frodo!" Pippin said in delight. "I won't stay away too long, that's for sure. Don't want to miss our Fael growing up."

"Yes, thank you, Fro," Freddy said. "If that invitation includes me too."

"Course it does, Freddy," Merry assured him. "Why, it's quite like old times again, all of us around a table."

Frodo looked down at the baby's contented face, deciding not to comment. It was like old times, but he didn't feel quite the same joy in it his cousins did. He missed Sam by his side, the room felt empty without him, despite his friends around him. Sam had spent the days since the party out and about, usually in the long neglected garden.

Fael sputtered around the bottle's teat and Frodo sat him up, exclaiming in dismay as the baby brought up everything he'd just gulped down, smelling considerably worse now than it had.

"Oh dear!" Pippin sprang up for a cloth and tossed it to Merry who handed it quickly to Frodo. He wiped the screaming baby's mouth, crooning softly at his distress.

"There there, Fael," he soothed. "It's all right."

"Here Frodo, I'll take him," Merry offered, another clean cloth in his arms and Frodo kissed his son's head and handed him over, pulling the stickiness of the soiled shirt away from his skin.

"I'll fill the bath," Pippin decided.

"Is he all right?" Freddy asked, grimacing.

"He's fine," Pippin assured him, making himself busy filling the small tub on the draining board. "He does this sometimes."

"Usually not quite so much of it though," Frodo snorted, unbuttoning the shirt and pulling it off. He thought he might need a bath himself.

"Why, Frodo," Pippin exclaimed. "That's the first time I've seen your sword scar since the Houses of Healing! It does look better."

Frodo turned to see the adults in the room surveying him and he flushed self consciously. He'd quite forgotten his many scars and he resisted the urge to hold his soiled shirt back in front of him like a maiden protecting her modesty.

"If that's better what was worse like?" Freddy said hoarsely, his eyes shocked.

"Oh it was awful!" Pip told him, eyes wide. "All black and horrid."

"It is better, Frodo," Merry said, frowning at Pippin. "Why don't you go wash up, we'll sluice the baby down and put a fresh gown on him."

Frodo seized the chance gratefully. "I do smell a bit myself, thanks, Merry."

~***~

There was silence in the kitchen after Frodo left and Merry busied himself stripping off Fael's stained gown and napkin.

"The water's ready, Merry," Pippin said in subdued tones.

Merry lifted Fael and sat him in the tub, splashing him gently. "You have got a big mouth, Pip," he chided as the other hobbit handed him a cloth. "You know Frodo doesn't like talking about all that."

"That wound? Is it really better than it was?" Freddy asked at his shoulder and Merry slanted him a glance. Their old friend still looked shocked and dismayed.

"Much," Merry confirmed. "Now it's less a wound and more a scar. Once we thought it would never heal."

"And the others?" Freddy asked. "I've heard all your stories, lads, but they don't begin to explain those scars. What about that weal on his side?"

"Best if we leave all the stories until another time, Freddy," Merry said, lifting Fael out of the tub into Pip's waiting arms. "Frodo will be back soon, and I'm not joking when I tell you he doesn't want to talk about it all."

"Even we don't know all of it," Pippin said lowly.

"But who did it?" Freddy insisted. "Who whipped him?"

Merry frowned at him. "Later," he said firmly, watching as Freddy bit his lip angrily. And then Frodo was coming back and Merry determinedly changed the subject.

~***~

Sam looked up from his weeding as Frodo laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You were well lost there, my lad," Frodo joked as he tossed a blanket down and knelt on it. Fael was dozing against his shoulder and supporting his head carefully Frodo laid him down.

"Just enjoyin' the peace and quiet."

"Not just escaping the house full?" Frodo's eyes were twinkling as he straightened Fael's little gown and touched a tender finger to his chin before rising and crossing to Sam's side.

"How can I put this without insultin' your family," Sam said thoughtfully, slanting the other hobbit a teasing glance as he dropped down next to him. "If your aunt pinches my cheek one more time I may set up permanent camp out here."

"Aunt Peony pinched your cheek? That means she like you."

"Does it indeed," Sam said, not impressed. "What does she do when she doesn't like you? Beat you over the head with her walking stick?"

"Funny you should ask..." Frodo dropped a wink and Sam chuckled and nudged his shoulder playfully with his own.

"Anyway, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be entertaining your guests?"

"I've left them to their greatest pleasures, annoying Bilbo and emptying our larders. Just when they were filling up nicely too!" Frodo reached out and absently plucked a weed from the soft earth. "Besides, Fael fancied a nap under the trees this morning."

Sam cast a glance over at the peacefully sleeping babe, dappled sunlight painting his soft pink cheeks. "Told you that did he?"

"In his own way," Frodo said loftily. "We have our own communication, my son and I."

Sam couldn't help his wide grin. It was such a pleasure to be kneeling in his garden with Frodo so happy and healthy by his side and their son laying safe asleep nearby. He nudged Frodo's shoulder more gently this time and smiled into wide blue eyes that turned to him.

"What would he be tellin' you now d'you think? If he was awake?" he murmured.

Frodo's own lips turned up in a soft smile. "He'd remind his Frodo-dad that he has a house full of guests and that this is neither the time or place to be dallying with his Sam-dad."

Sam breathed deeply of Frodo's healthy hobbit smell, half closing his eyes in pleasure at having him so close. Then he sighed and turned determinedly back to his weeding. "That's a smart lad we have there," he said hoarsely and Frodo chuckled and began to help weeding in earnest.

"We do indeed. I'm walking into the village after lunch with Pip. Want to come?"

"I'll finish this," Sam decided. "What do you want in the village?"

"Have to send a few letters. I have a few things to sort out about Bag End."

Sam slanted him an uneasy glance. "Like?"

"Like making sure you and Fael have all the rights I can give you," Frodo told him. "It's nothing to worry about, love."

"If you say so," Sam said, deciding to let Frodo handle that side of things. He knew what he was doing after all.

~***~

Merry looked up from his book when Freddy stuck his head around the door.

"Is Frodo here?"

"He went for a walk with Pip and the baby," Merry said, closing the book with his finger marking his page. "They only just left, you can probably catch up with them."

Freddy smiled. "I might."

Merry sat back with a sigh, then shook his head when he realised he hadn't told Freddy which direction they'd been heading in. He closed his book and jumped up to follow him down the hall to the back door, arriving in the open doorway just in time to see Freddy stand over Sam where he knelt by the garden bed. And then he was frozen in shock as Sam turned and Freddy struck him across the mouth with a backhand that sent him sprawling.

He was so stunned he could only gape in horror as Sam fell on to his side, hand flying to his lip where blood spurted.

"You've been asking for that,' Freddy said, the satisfaction in his voice curdling Merry's blood. He grabbed the round doorjamb with both hands as Freddy unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops in his pants. "And this has been a long time coming too," he said, snapping the belt in his hand.

Sam had climbed to his feet, one hand still to his split lip.

"I'm not a nipper any more, Mr. Freddy," Sam said quietly, hand by his side clenching. "I don't have to stand for a thrashin' from you again."

"If you'd learned your lesson the first time then I wouldn't have to do this again," Freddy said, taking a step forward as Sam clenched his other hand into a fist and braced himself.

Merry finally found his voice. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed, cutting across the grass to stand between the two hobbits.

Freddy firmed his jaw, his gaze not leaving Sam's face.

"Keep out of this, Merry. It's not your concern."

"Not my concern?" Merry said incredulously. "I'll ask you again, Freddy, what on earth are you doing?"

Freddy met his eyes. "What you should have done. You're as against this union as I am."

"I told you I was worried about Frodo," Merry said, his voice shaking with his shocked surprise. He threw his hand back and indicated a silent Sam. "I never said anything like this!"

"Maybe if you had then this mess wouldn't have gone so far," Freddy threw back in disgust. "Now go away, cousin and let me finish this."

Merry shook his head, taking a step back until he was by Sam's side. "I don't think so," he said steadily. "In fact I think you're the one who should be going away, cousin. Pack your bags and leave."

Freddy huffed a laugh. "It's not bad enough this gardener is walking around Bag End like he owns it, now you're telling me what to do as well?"

"I'm telling you to go," Merry confirmed. "Frodo will say the same thing when he gets back."

"No!" Sam interjected. "I don't want Frodo worried with this."

"No one cares what you want," Freddy said savagely and Merry was taken aback anew by the rage in his face. "This is Frodo's house and I'll stay here as long as I like." As he spoke he wrapped his belt back around his waist and buckled it firmly. "And I'll say whatever I please to my cousin," he finished smugly.

"No you won't," Merry said firmly. "And let me tell you why. You seemed obsessed with Frodo's scar this morning, Freddy. Couldn't take your eyes off it."

Freddy's face grew wary. "So?"

"You were full of questions about where and when he got it, but I noticed you knew right away what caused it. And why shouldn't you? Who better in the Shire than you knows what kind of scar a whip leaves on a hobbits flesh?"

"That's enough!" Freddy hissed, shooting a hateful glance at Sam. "You have no right to talk about this in front of him."

Merry shook his head sadly. "I wondered if you remembered, Freddy, but it seems you don't. It was Sam and I who found you in the lockholes that day."

The hobbit's face went still.

"We saw the state you were in," Merry continued. "We carried you out. It was Sam who wrapped his coat around you, so no one else would see what they did to you."

"You have no idea what they did to me," Freddy ground out.

"We have a pretty good idea." Merry met his cousin's eyes squarely. "And it's the only reason I'm not standing back and watching Sam beat the snot out of you right now. But if you bother Frodo with this then believe me, Freddy, I'll bloody hold his coat while he does."

"Why are you bringing this up now?" Freddy demanded hotly.

Merry bit his lip, unsure for a moment if he wanted to take this any further. But a sideways glance at Sam, bloody hand clenched, eyes hard convinced him. "I'm just thinking how interested folk would be in all the gruesome details, Freddy." Merry raised one brow. "All the lurid, sordid details."

Freddy's face was white, his eyes hot and shining. "You'd do that?" he said incredulously. "In defence of this upstart gardener's boy?"

"To protect my friends, yes," Merry confirmed quietly. He shook his head sorrowfully. "You force my hand, Freddy, with this violence. I won't have you show this face to Frodo."

"Because if I do you'll try to shame me to the whole Shire," Freddy sneered. "Well, fine. You've obviously chosen your side, cousin. Made your bed." He looked Merry up and down then flung a disgusted look at Sam. "I hope you enjoy lying in it."

Merry stood firm as Freddy strode up to him and then past, brushing his arm roughly against him as he pushed by, watching as he easily hopped the fence and strode down the path towards the market place. Only then did Merry take a deep breath and feel his heartbeat begin to slow. He turned to Sam and shook his head when he saw the blood on his face. "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry."

"It weren't your doin'," Sam mumbled, lifting a shaking hand to his mouth.

The trembling fingers bought sudden unexpected tears to Merry's eyes but he blinked them away. There was an almost physical pain in his heart as he recalled the last terrible minutes, the unexpected violence, the lengths he had been forced to go to. He nodded to Sam's swollen lip. "We should clean that up."

Sam followed him silently into the cool dimness of the house and sat down at the table while Merry poured some water from the kettle and found a soft clean rag.

"I saw him strike you," Merry said quietly as he poured a little witch hazel into the water, turning it cloudy. "I heard what he said. Will you tell me what he did before?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam dismissed, taking the dampened cloth and pressing the corner of it to his lip, hissing a little at the sting. "It was a long time ago."

"I'm guessing Frodo doesn't know." Merry sat at the table, watching as Sam dipped another corner of the rag into the saucer and touched it to his lip. "Here, let me do that." He took the rag and folded it into a neater pad before dabbing it in the solution and holding it firmly against Sam's mouth.

"No," Sam mumbled against the cloth. "And I don't want him to."

"I know Freddy never had much time for you," Merry muttered. "But I had no idea he'd been so cruel to you in the past. Please tell me what happened back then, Sam, my head's spinning with all this!"

Sam gave him a long look and then shrugged. "He thought I was too big for my britches," he said, as Merry carefully pulled back the cloth and surveyed the torn flesh. "Happen I was. He cornered me one day in the garden when Frodo wasn't here."

Merry studied Sam's battered face grimly. "And thrashed you." It wasn't a question.

"He wasn't that much bigger'n me, but he caught me by surprise same as he did today. Mr. Bilbo stepped in and put a stop to it afore it went too far."

"Bilbo knew?" Merry said in surprise.

"Mr. Bilbo was always kind to me." Sam licked gingerly at his lip and grimaced. "Told me not to pay no nevermind to Freddy or anyone else who said I shouldn't be Frodo's friend." He looked down at the bloody cloth in Merry's hand. "But I never forgot it, Merry."

"I bet you didn't." Merry balled the cloth in his fist. "For what it's worth, Sam, I never said a word against you when I spoke to Freddy. I told him I was worried about Frodo, but I swear that's all."

Sam looked up at him and Merry could tell he was turning the words over in his mind.

"Really?" he finally asked and Merry nodded fervently.

"Really. And if I had it to do over again I wouldn't even say that," he said honestly. "Freddy was right about one thing, I have chosen a side. And it's yours and Frodo's side. Wherever that may be, Sam, I'm on it."

"I'm glad to hear it." Sam said huskily. "It's goin' to be hard enough for Frodo to lose Mr. Freddy, he'd break his heart to lose you too, Merry."

"That will never happen," Merry said firmly.

"What was all that stuff you was saying to Mr. Freddy about the lockholes? How do you know for sure what they did to him?"

"For sure?" Merry shrugged. "I don't know any more than you, Sam and you were there with me. But I had my suspicions even then, and you can't say you didn't.."

"I did." Sam nodded grimly. "And he wasn't the only one, from what I've heard since. They was bad times." He looked directly at him and Merry was relieved to see some colour back in his cheeks. "You wouldn't really have spread such gossip about him around the Shire, would you?"

"Course not," Merry half smiled, wondering if he was fooling Sam any better than he was himself.

"Course not," Sam repeated dubiously. "I almost felt sorry for the fellow, and that's sayin' something! But if I thought it would keep him from spewin' his hateful words at Frodo I might have found myself that ruthless as well."

"Yes," Merry agreed solemnly, then he smiled at Sam. "Frodo was right, Sam. You do take good care of him."

"And he of me," Sam smiled, then winced. "Ouch!"

"You've opened it back up again," Merry fussed, wetting the cloth again. "How are you going to explain this to Frodo?"

"I'll think of something." Sam winced again. He looked appealingly at Merry. "Help me think of something?"

~***~

Frodo laid Fael down for his nap in his cradle, gently rocking it as long lashes swept his cheeks and he began to doze. A cooler afternoon breeze gently billowed the curtains and Frodo drew a light cover over Fael, chuckling under his breath as strong little legs kicked at the cover even in sleep. He rocked for a few minutes more, enjoying just the sound of the baby's soft quick breaths and the feel of his smooth skin under loving fingertips.

Finally he left him to his nap, drawing the door half closed behind him.

Down the hall he could hear movement from the room Freddy was sharing with Merry and Pippin and Frodo paused uncertainly. For days he had been watching Freddy watch him, waiting in vain for the other hobbit to speak out and say what was obviously on his mind.

But Freddy had never sought him out and with the house full of slowly departing guests and Sam disappearing every chance he got Frodo hadn't had the chance to seek him out instead. Indeed, he'd even wondered if he should. Perhaps Freddy had just been taken by surprise the other night at the party? Perhaps, like Merry, he needed time to get used to all this?

Perhaps it was time to find out.

Frodo stopped in the round doorway and rapped softly. Then he stuck his head around the door.

"Freddy? Can we talk?"

Freddy looked up, a folded shirt in his hands, a port open on the bed.

"Freddy?"

"Hello, Fro. I looked for you in the village but they said you'd been and gone."

Frodo stepped into the room, surveying the empty drawers and the clothes folded in the port. "I only had a few letters to send then Pip and I went for a walk. Why are you packing, Freddy?"

Freddy laid the shirt in the port and picked up a handful of bright cravats and dropped them on top. "I decided I'd imposed on you long enough, Fro."

Frodo frowned at the light tone, at the eyes that wouldn't meet his. "But I thought you were riding back with Merry and Pippin when they go?"

"All the way back to Buckland with that noisy Took?" Freddy laughed, taking a final look at the dresser and drawers. "No thanks." He closed the port with a snap. Then he turned and finally met Frodo's eyes. He smiled amiably.

Frodo drew in a breath. Just for a moment that look had been back, the one that had so surprised him at the party, the one he hadn't wanted to put a name to.

It looked like rage.

"I wish you wouldn't do this, Freddy," he said quietly, locking his hands together in front of him to stop his fingers from shaking. "You don't have to do this."

"Best this way, old chap," Freddy said jovially. "Best to leave while we still have at least the memory of friendship between us."

"We're still friends, Freddy," Frodo exclaimed. "That hasn't changed."

Freddy laughed dryly and shook his head. "Everything's changed, Fro," he said. "Time after time I've had to stand by while all that I knew and loved was washed away. I've watched my world change around me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it." He huffed a harsh laugh. "When I did try I paid a bitter enough price."

"Not all changes are bad, Freddy," Frodo said quietly.

Freddy shook his head again. "You don't even know how much you've changed, Frodo, if you expect me to smile and nod while you throw everything away for this gardener of yours. If you expect me of celebrate the life of some misbegotten elfspawn-"

"That's enough!" Frodo exclaimed.

Freddy clenched his jaw then smiled a travesty of his old smile. "Told you it was better if I left," he said, quirking one brow. "You and I are miles apart now, Frodo. There's no ground we can meet on."

Frodo's hands were still clenched, but it was anger that had them shaking now, not sorrow. "You were right," he said coldly, pulling the door open wide.

Freddy picked up his bag and turned for the door. "I'm right about a lot of things, but I expect you'll find that out the hard way soon enough."

He paused by Frodo and tilted his head. "You're not the hobbit I thought you were, Frodo, but maybe that's my fault for expecting too much. You always did have some odd notions."

"Freddy."

Freddy paused in the doorway without turning.

"It is your fault, Freddy. And your loss." Broad shoulders twitched for a moment, then the hobbit crossed the threshold and was gone.

His steps died away and Frodo sat back down on the bed numbly. He couldn't believe that conversation had happened, couldn't believe how quickly Freddy's mask of civility had slipped to reveal the rage and hatred simmering underneath. What on earth did Freddy see when he looked at them? What on earth inspired such loathing?

Frodo shivered. All of a sudden he was remembering elven eyes spitting hatred at him across a glade in Rivendell. To think that Freddy had been here under his roof for days thinking such thoughts about them. About Fael.

Overcome with the urge to check on the baby Frodo hurried to his room, pushing open the door and drawing in a startled breath at the figure bending over the cradle.

"Sam," he breathed out in relief and Sam swung his head around, finger to his lips.

"Shh, he's still fast asleep." Sam frowned and crossed to him swiftly. "You all right?"

Frodo reached out and clutched broad shoulders, leaning against him with a sigh. "You startled me," he said quietly.

Strong fingers reached out and caught his chin and Frodo schooled his face and smiled into concerned brown eyes. "Decided to come back inside?" he teased, then his smile died and he reached out and touched a gentle finger to Sam's mouth. "What happened to your mouth?"

Sam touched the torn patch with his tongue and shrugged ruefully. "I slipped in the garden. Hit myself on the hoe handle."

Frodo stared at him, watching as a pink tide spread from Sam's collar and made its way gamely to his ears. He drew his hand back and crossed his arms, one brow rising. "A gardening accident?" he said dubiously.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh huh."

Frodo reached out and traced a thin scar just visible under Sam's shirt collar. "Anything like this gardening accident?"

Sam's hand flew to his throat and the pink tide turned red. "Oh, bother," he exclaimed.

"Sam Traveller you are the worst liar," Frodo said in exasperation. "You couldn't come up with anything better than that old story?"

"I forgot what we told Bilbo," Sam muttered.

"I suppose in a way it is like that 'gardening accident'," Frodo said unhappily. "Isn't it?"

Sam frowned. "How do you mean?" he said cautiously.

"I mean you were hurt again because of us." Frodo nodded towards the cradle. "The three of us."

Sam eyes grew worried. "You've spoken to Mr. Freddy then? What did he say to you?"

"Nothing I want to repeat," Frodo said, feeling the disgust all over again. "I'm more interested in how this happened."

Sam curved his hands around Frodo's shoulders. "It was nothin'," he said, "Really, love, I'd rather not speak of it either." He pulled him close and Frodo let himself be drawn into Sam's arms, wrapping himself in the warm embrace. But his mind was racing, wondering how far it had all gone, remembering that flash of rage, those horrible words.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured. "You've lost a friend."

"Nothing for you to apologise for, Sam," Frodo said. "I'm just realising Freddy wasn't the friend I thought he was anyway."

He leaned back a little and met Sam's eyes. "You sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Sam said, eyes creasing as he smiled reassuringly.

Frodo pressed a gentle kiss to that smile, drawing back as Sam hissed and jerked away. "I'm sorry!" Frodo exclaimed.

"It's just a bit sore," Sam said, raising his hand and pressing it to the wound. "And all I want to do is kiss you."

Frodo tasted the tang of blood on his own lips but he swallowed his anger and forced himself to smile. "I'll have to do the kissing for both of us," he whispered, leaning forward and laying a gentle kiss to the unhurt side of Sam's lips.

"Mmm," Sam hummed. "I could get used to that."

Frodo nuzzled his cheek. "I have a few other ideas as well," he said against smooth skin, and chuckled at the shudder of pleasure that rippled through his love.

"We can't," Sam groaned, his hands shaping Frodo's shoulders and tugging him closer.

Frodo tilted his head back. "Is this the same hobbit who gave me that afternoon tumble just the other day? Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Mashed flat under the weight of all your relatives." Sam cast a haunted look to the open window, voices raised in laughter and song could be heard through it from the garden.

Frodo gave in and rested his head on Sam's shoulder again. "All my relatives," he repeated with a sigh. Freddy's face flickered in his mind again and he wrapped his arms around Sam protectively. "The last of them will be gone this time tomorrow, love," he promised. "Except for Merry and Pip and Bilbo of course."

"They don't count," Sam assured him, patting his back. "They hardly ever pinch my cheeks. Or my bum either come to that. Pearl," he supplied, when Frodo jerked his head back.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo said, chest shaking. "What a lot you've had to put up with." His eyes touched on the torn lip but he kept his smile on his face. "I love you," he whispered.

"Love you," Sam whispered back.

They held each other close for some time.

~***~

"Where's Freddy?"

Frodo looked over at Pippin and then at Sam. "Freddy's gone, Pip."

Pippin's eyes widened in astonishment but Frodo noticed that Merry didn't seem surprised. He cast another glance at Sam and saw the quick look he exchanged with Merry. Frodo filed it away.

"But I thought we were all riding home together?" Pippin said, brow creasing in confusion. "And why would he leave without saying goodbye?"

"It seems Freddy had some problems with Sam and I," Frodo said as gently as he could.

"Problems?" As usual Pippin's eyes sought Merry's for clarification. "What does he mean, Merry? What problem did Freddy have with Sam and Frodo?"

"What do you think, Pippin?" Merry sighed. "Freddy can't accept that Frodo and Sam are making a life together now."

Pippin was shaking his head. "I can't believe that Freddy would leave over that," he said surely. "Why should it make any difference to him whether they love each other or not?"

"I don't know, it just does." Frodo studied his young cousin in concern, Pippin's normally cheerful face was pinched and drawn, his eyes confused.

"But Freddy's your friend, Frodo," Pip insisted. "He's known you all your life! How can he just stop being your friend, just like that?"

"Stop asking foolish questions, Pippin!" Merry said roughly. "We don't have answers, all right? Some folk will never accept someone that's different, it's about time you learned that for yourself."

"Merry," Frodo chided, noting that there were tears standing in Pip's eyes. "No need to be so rough, Pip's upset." He rose and crossed to Pippin's side but the other hobbit shook him off.

"It's not fair," he said angrily, dashing the tears from his eyes. "Why does everything have to change?" He turned on his heel and left the room, pushing past Peony and Bilbo.

"What bee's in his bonnet?" Peony said, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.

"Supper ready yet?" Bilbo said, eyes darting around the room. "What's going on?"

"Merry, you were too hard on him," Frodo said reproachfully.

"That lad needs to grow up a bit," Pearl sniffed, sitting down at the table and reaching for the butter knife.

"He's had to grow up too fast, that's the problem," Merry snapped, pushing away from the table.

"Another young hothead," Peony sighed, taking his vacated seat. "Any cake?"

~***~

Pippin was in their room, sitting on the floor by the bed, head pressed miserably to his knees. He looked up as Merry pushed the door closed behind him then lowered his flushed face again.

"Who are you mad at, Pip?" Merry asked quietly, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. "Because I think Frodo is upset enough already, and I know this isn't easy on Sam either."

Pippin sniffed, wiping his eyes on his knees. "I'm not mad," he muttered.

Merry pushed away from the door and dropped down next to his younger cousin, leaning back against the bed with a sigh. "Sure sounded like you were."

"I just don't understand!" Pippin burst out. "This morning Freddy was sitting laughing with us, and now he's gone? It was just like old times for a while and now it's all ruined." He kicked out at the rug by his feet. "I wish things didn't have to change, Merry. I wish it was all back like it used to be."

"No you don't," Merry chided, wrapping his arm around Pip's shoulders.

"I do," Pip insisted stubbornly. "When we were all friends and had jolly times together and I didn't get so confused and churned up about things."

Merry sighed. "It's all right to wish bad times away, Pip, we all do it. But what about the good things that have come from the bad? Would you wish Fael away? Separate Sam and Frodo?"

"Course not," Pippin muttered. He laid his head on Merry's shoulder. "Merry?"

Merry cupped his cousin's head, stroking tenderly through fair curls. "Hmm?"

Pippin turned to look at him and Merry gazed into damp eyes. "Do you think it's wrong then? To love a lad? I didn't think it was, but now I'm not so sure."

"Love's never wrong, Pip."

"But you didn't like it either, when Frodo and Sam came back together."

Merry flushed, but kept his gaze even. "I think I was a bit like you, Pip, wishing things could go back to the way they were before we left."

"But they can't, can they," Pippin said sadly. "Everything seemed so easy then, no one was asking us to make hard choices."

"It wasn't a hard choice for you, Pip," Merry reminded him. "All you cared about was whether Frodo and Sam were happy. I admire that about you."

"You do?" Pippin blinked in surprise.

Merry nodded. "I really do. You may mess things up now and then but you always make the wise choice in the end. You follow your heart."

Pippin's cheeks flushed with pleasure and then he wrinkled his nose. "You had to mention how I mess up?"

"Well it is your greatest talent," Merry teased, ruffling soft curls. "There have been some tough choices, haven't there, Pip? I'm not sure I've always made the wisest ones."

"You can only do your best, Merry," Pippin said, his sunny nature teaser ting itself. "And for what it's worth I think you've always done the right thing, in the end. You've always taken good care of me." 

~***~

"Pippin seemed fine at supper," Frodo observed, joining Merry on the bench.

Merry smiled down at his pipe. "You know Pip. He gets over things quickly enough."

"When he has you to run to," Frodo reminded him. He took a deep breath of evening air. "It's been quite a day."

Merry nodded fervently. "It certainly has."

"Did I tell you, Merry, Sam and I made a bit of a pact. Not to run crying to each other over every little trouble we have with folk."

Merry tilted him a curious glance. "Sounds like a good rule."

"In theory," Frodo agreed. "It worked for me right up to the moment I kissed Sam and tasted blood on his lips." He turned a deadly serious face to Merry. "That doesn't count as a little trouble to me."

"Ah," Merry said carefully. "Maybe this is something you should talk to Sam about."

Frodo huffed a chuckle under his breath. "Sam doesn't want to worry me. My fault I suppose, I do tend to brood a bit too much these days. But I'm not going to fall apart over this, Merry, I'm sure I've guessed the greater part of it already."

Merry sighed and gave in, feeling quite thankful to get it off his chest. "Some, but not all," he revealed. "You know Freddy never had much time for Sam."

"To tell you the truth, Merry, I honestly never noticed it," Frodo said regretfully.

"He took pains to hide how deep it ran, that's for sure." Merry took a deep breath. "Like the time he cornered Sam in the garden years ago and gave him a beating."

Frodo's face paled and he turned wide eyes to Merry. "What?"

"When I followed him into the garden this morning, Frodo, it was in time to see him strike Sam to the ground and pull his belt off to do it again. You never saw such a thing!"

"I don't believe this," Frodo said dazedly. "Although it shouldn't come as such a shock to me after the face he showed me today. And what he said about Fael."

"What did he say?"

Frodo shook his head. "Nothing I care to repeat. But I never dreamt there was such hatred for Sam from Freddy, even back then. I thought today no more than an argument that turned to fists."

"It would have turned to fists again, if I hadn't been there," Merry reported. "But I don't think Freddy would have had it all his own way this time. He wasn't facing some shy young servant boy today."

Frodo's eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. "Sam would have beat the daylights out of him," he said angrily. "I half wish you'd let him!"

"I half wish that myself. But Sam doesn't want you to know about this, Frodo," Merry reminded him. "I think it's a hard memory for him, one he doesn't want reminding of."

"Of course he doesn't," Frodo said huskily, and Merry could see the anger subsiding and sorrow taking its place. "He didn't deserve that, Merry. Not just for being my friend."

"No, he didn't," Merry agreed. "I was never so surprised or disappointed in anyone my life as I am with Freddy. To tell you the truth, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it. I thought I knew him."

"So did I. My poor Sam."

"You won't let on I told you, will you, Frodo? It's only because I don't want you trying to stay in contact with Freddy that I'm breaking Sam's confidence now."

"I'll keep the secret. I owe Sam that much at least. But I'm glad to know, Merry. Thank you."

Merry shook his head. "Don't thank me. I'm ashamed that Freddy actually thought I would be on his side in all this. That if nothing else opened my eyes to how stubborn I've been over you and Sam. I love both of you, and now you love each other. And I'm glad, Frodo, truly glad."

Frodo smiled and laid his hand over his cousin's.

~***~

_The elf he loves the high wood,_

_The man he loves to roam;_

_The dwarf he loves his bright gold,_

_The hobbit loves his home._

Frodo closed the door gently behind him and Sam looked up from his seat by the cradle, pausing in his quiet song.

"That's nice," Frodo said softly, crossing to his side and laying a loving hand on his shoulder. Together they looked down into the cradle at the yawning baby. "When did you come up with it?"

"It's like one my mam used to sing me." Sam gently rocked the cradle and Fael's eyes drooped. "I changed it some."

"How's your lip?"

"It's fine," Sam assured him, reaching up and squeezing Frodo's hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"If you say so," Frodo acquiesced, letting Sam keep his secret. He had a few secrets of his own after all. He dropped a kiss on honey curls. "Don't you worry either, love."

Sam looked up at him, his soft brown eyes just a little shadowed.

"Nothing I've lost compares to what I've gained. All right?"

Sam smiled a little, his eyes creasing at the corners, the shadows lifting. "All right," he whispered.


	6. Shadows In The Night

June 1421 S.R

The market day stalls were already doing a brisk trade by the time they arrived and Frodo sniffed appreciatively.

"Old Hal's pies smell as good as ever." He shifted his basket, hearing the reassuring jingle of coin in his purse. "I hope he has some of those egg and bacon tarts Bilbo likes so much."

"Bilbo likes?" Sam said pointedly, patting Fael up on his back. The five month old was gumming happily on a hard rusk, drooling down his chin and onto his already soaked bib. Sam automatically wiped at the drool and Fael shifted his rusk and gave him a happy smile. Sam smiled back and kissed his curly head.

Frodo just chuckled. "That we all like," he amended. "Might as well take some home for morning tea. Look, there's Daisy. Hie, Daisy!" he called.

"Morning, lads." Daisy trotted up, a gaggle of children behind her. "Bluebell, here's a penny. Go buy a bun each for the four of you."

"Ta, mam!" Blue enthused, taking hands and racing off.

Daisy shifted her youngest in her arms while a toddler clung to her apron and leaned against her legs, peering up at them with a thumb firmly in his mouth. "Mr. Bilbo not with you this morning?"

"He's sleeping in." Frodo explained. "He doesn't do much else these days."

"A sleep in sounds just fine to me." Daisy blew a curl out her eye wearily. But her eyes shone and her smile was sunny as she nodded at Fael. "And how's your lad? Teething?"

"Just drooling," Sam said resignedly, wiping Fael's chin again.

"Ah, well, one follows t'other," Daisy said wisely. "Started him on solids yet?"

Frodo exchanged a small glance with Sam. "Just about to, actually," he ventured. "Umm, not sure where to start though."

Daisy grinned and then chuckled. "You lads only have to ask, you know. I'm happy to give advice to new parents."

"Too happy," Sam muttered.

"Mind yourself," Daisy warned, pinching his ear. "Start with yogurt, Frodo, but don't sweeten it. If you start off with sweet things a babby'll never want owt else."

Frodo nodded and listened while Daisy did what she did best and doled out advice. He was glad of it actually, the mysteries of teething and rashes seemed to be something mothers kept to themselves, like some kind of ancient lore. It wasn't written down anywhere, just passed from mother to daughter apparently, leaving fathers pretty far out of the picture. Poor Fael only had two fathers, and more useless uncles than he needed.

"And no honey," Daisy finished sternly. "I've seen babbies sicken from it, though it does no harm to childer."

Frodo raised his brow in alarm. "I'm glad you told me that," he exclaimed. "Honestly, how's a fellow to know things like that?"

"Any other dangers lurkin' in our pantry?" Sam asked impatiently. "No? So can we shop, d'you think? This lad's not gettin' any lighter and I'd like to get to them pies before Old Hal's sold out."

"You just come to tea on Sunday, lads," Daisy invited, shifting Holly in her arms as the youngster reached out and tried to touch Fael. "And I'll give you some more good advice. No, my lass," she said as Holly's face screwed up. "Fael doesn't want his cousin pulling his curls off. She's a terrible one for hair pulling, this doll of mine," she confided fondly.

Frodo petted Holly's golden curls affectionately and she smiled up at him and showed him a row of neat white teeth. "Dodo," she lisped.

"I think that's meant to be Frodo," Daisy said doubtfully, then she smiled proudly. "She's a talker too!"

Frodo politely refrained from the obvious comment and Sam was too impatient to be away to bite. "You shouldn't let her talk your ear off, Frodo," he chided as they made their escape.

"But that was some good advice she was handing out, Sam." Frodo smiled at a neighbour. "Who would have thought not to give honey to a baby?"

"Doesn't sound right to me," Sam said absently, waving at the baker. "Hie, Hal! Those pies of yours drew us here all the way from Bag End!"

"Get away with you," Old Hal chuckled, fanning the flies away from his wares with a practised motion. "You haven't changed since you were a nipper mooning around with big eyes."

"I still crave your pies, if that's what you mean," Sam returned with a smile.

They chose their wares and wandered through the stalls, picking and choosing from the finest the market had to offer. Frodo's basket was full and his purse considerably lighter when they found themselves outside the pub.

"Sit down," Sam ordered and Frodo collapsed back on a bench and laid his basket down gratefully. "You take this one and I'll nip in and get us something cool before we walk home."

Frodo accepted the baby, wiping at his chin and removing the disgusting remains of the rusk from his plump little fist. "Ugh." Frodo dropped the soggy mess in the basket and cleaned the flexing fingers with the bib. "How're those gums of yours?"

He slipped a finger in Fael's mouth and explored the hard little gums. The baby grimaced and then bit down, chewing his father's finger blissfully. "I wish someone would write a book," Frodo sighed, letting the baby gum him happily. "So I'd know what I'm doing."

"Mr. Frodo might have heard."

Frodo pricked up his ears and turned to see Sam's father, Tom Cotton and a few others sitting around a table nodding towards him.

"Heard what?" Sam said as he emerged from the pub, two mugs and a cup in his hands. "I bought half a cup of lemonade for the baby," he said, laying his burden down and sitting on the bench.

"There's a party of elves, Sam," his dad explained. "In Bindbale Woods. Been there two days, so Minto Burrows says."

"Elves!" Frodo exclaimed, mug halfway to his lips. "Minto saw them?"

"Saw them and spoke to them, which is rare enough," the Gaffer confirmed. "But these fellows aren't passing through, they're staying put."

"Did they tell him why?" Sam asked curiously, wiping foam from his lip.

"They said nowt but warned him away from their camp."

Frodo took a sip of his shandy and shook his head thoughtfully. "It's a curious thing," he admitted. "Even passing through elves aren't usually seen, unless they want to be. But to stop and camp..."

"P'haps there's trouble?" Farmer Cotton broached. "Elves have troubles like the rest of us, don't they?"

"Someone might be sick," his son agreed. "Or hurt."

Frodo lifted the cup of lemonade to Fael's lips and the baby slurped at it eagerly, most slopping down his chin to be absorbed by his long suffering bib.

"If elves have their own troubles they also have their own ways of sortin' them." Sam drained his shandy with a sigh. "Best thing hobbits can do is leave them to it."

"All the same, there might be something we can do to help." Fael's little hands wavered trying to grasp the cup and Frodo guided them around it and held it steady while the baby slurped another mouthful. "Perhaps we should take a stroll over there this afternoon and chat with them?"

"You do speak their lingo, Frodo," Tom said. "And we owe the elves somethin' after all."

"But your cousin Minto's over by Oatbarton side of the Wood," Sam protested. "It's a longer walk than an afternoon, if you figure on there and back."

"Well first thing in the morning then." Fael finished the cup and smacked his lips together happily. Frodo took the chance to sip at his own mug. "We could take a lunch and make a day of it."

"Might be they'll have moved on by the time you get there and no harm done," Farmer Cotton pointed out.

Sam peered up at the endless blue sky of the June afternoon, the morning was already well advanced, the sun hot. "I suppose it's a nice enough time for a hike," he mused.

"Be nice to have the free time to take a day's hike," Farmer Cotton said, standing up and slapping the knees of his sturdy britches. "Come on, lads," he said to his sons. "Time we were away home."

They waved them off and Frodo finished his shandy. "I suppose we'd better be off too." He shifted Fael and the baby leaned his head against his shoulder and yawned. "Oh no you don't, my lad," Frodo warned. "You're not sleeping all the way home to wake bright eyed and bushy tailed the minute we walk in the door."

"Figurin' out this parent stuff?" the Gaffer chuckled around his pipe.

"We're gettin' there, da."

"That reminds me, have you seen our Daisy? I'm to tell her to drop in on May this afternoon."

"Is she all right?" Frodo asked in concern.

"She's well enough." Ham shook his head worriedly. "But the leech has confined her to her bed till the babby comes."

Now Frodo felt real alarm and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the dozing baby. "That sounds serious! Why?"

The Gaffer shifted uncomfortably. "Some lasses business," he muttered. "Not our concern."

"I'll drop in and see her this afternoon," Frodo decided. "I remember what it was like being confined to a bed."

"From when he was ill," Sam interjected hastily. "Back in Minas Tirith."

"That's what I meant," Frodo said pointedly. He smiled at the Gaffer. "From when I was ill."

Sam's father grunted.

~***~

"All right, yogurt and a bowl of cereal. No honey." Frodo stood back and surveyed his preparations.

Following Daisy's advice Sam had a bath sheet covering him and Fael was wearing only a napkin. Held securely on Sam's lap he was industriously gumming the fingers of one hand while the other tugged at his ear.

"Here goes." Sam dipped the spoon into the yogurt and slipped it between Fael's lips. The baby screwed his face up at the unfamiliar sensation in his mouth and poked out his tongue, delivering most of the spoonful back out again.

"I don't think he likes it," Frodo said.

"Early days yet," Sam said gamely, trying another spoonful. This time Fael rolled it around in his mouth for a few moments before screwing his face up again and spitting it back out.

"Maybe we should try the cereal?" Frodo said, wiping used yogurt from Sam's chin.

"Once more." Sam took a spoonful and put it in his own mouth, swallowing it down and making a broad happy face. "Num num!" he exclaimed. Fael's tongue was out again as he obviously pondered the taste still in his mouth. "Your turn, Fael."

One more spoonful into the baby's mouth. This time Fael swallowed most of it down, only drooling up a tiny amount from the corner of his mouth.

"Success!" Frodo cheered and Sam bussed an already sticky cheek.

"That's my lad!" he said proudly, then delivered another spoonful. Fael still spat the occasional mouthful out, but eventually finished half the bowl before he decided he'd had enough. His proud parents judged the whole affair a huge success.

"We need to think about a high chair for him," Sam mused, wiping the baby down.

Frodo passed him a light shirt and Sam tugged it onto the squirming baby. "Maybe your dad has an old one stored away too?" he said hopefully.

"I doubt it. I'm sure I can knock one together."

"Hmm."

Sam laced Fael's shirt and quirked a brow at Frodo. "You don't think I can do it, do you?"

Frodo leaned over and kissed his cheek, tasting a missed spot of yogurt. "I think you can do anything," he said, widening his eyes in admiration.

Sam huffed a laugh. "I'll show you," he said firmly. "No baby in the Shire will have a finer high chair."

"So long as all its legs stay on I shall be happy," Frodo declared, then skipped out of the way of pinching fingers.

"I smell my favourite pie," Bilbo said, shuffling into the room.

Frodo helped him into the soft armchair they now kept in the kitchen and made him up a plateful of lunch. "Bilbo, Sam and I will be away all day tomorrow." He told his uncle about the elves in the wood and the old hobbit ate and listened, nodding his head.

"It is a curious thing," he agreed. "You should go, talk to them. It might be that they'll simply order you off like they did Minto. If they do then leave them to their business."

"Will you be all right for a day alone?" Frodo asked and Bilbo snorted.

"I should think I'll survive."

"All the same, I'll ask Tom to stick his head around the door at lunchtime," Sam said quietly once Bilbo had shuffled off to his study.

Frodo nodded sadly. "Every day it's like he diminishes. He spends more time asleep than awake."

"He's barely eating too," Sam agreed, indicating the remains on Bilbo's plate. "Didn't even finish his seconds, when he'd usually polish off thirds."

Fael had his rattle in his hand and Frodo tugged it away from his mouth and shook it gently. "He asked me about his old ring the other day," he said quietly.

Sam stroked his arm sympathetically and Frodo gave him a sad smile. "Seemed content enough when I told him I'd lost it, but still. It all makes it easier in a way."

"Easier?"

"Letting him go." Frodo hugged his baby to him and kissed his curly crown. "He's ready, I can see that. I'll be sad to lose him, but happy for him. He's ready to go."

Outside the afternoon drowsed, fat bumblebees hovering over heavy headed flowers. Sam stroked Frodo's arm again and they rested their heads together for a little while.

"I need to do some diggin'," Sam finally said reluctantly, pushing away from the table. "Want to help?"

Frodo shook off his pensive mood. "I want to visit May," he reminded Sam. "I've some gifts for her to help pass the time. Will you watch Fael?"

"I'll bring a rug and settle him down on it. He'll be fine while I work."

~***~

The front door of May and Rory's hole was wide open to catch a stray breeze and Frodo stuck his head in and called a soft greeting, hoping May wasn't napping. A call came from inside.

"Come in, Frodo! I could do with a friendly face!"

Frodo entered the cool dimness gratefully and peeked his head around a bedroom door. "Have there been unfriendly faces I should worry about?" he grinned.

"Any face at all then," May amended, laying aside her knitting and holding out her hand. Frodo crossed the room and took a seat by the wide bed, grasping her hand and squeezing it.

"You look very well," he admired and May snorted.

"You are a charmer." She shook her head but smiled anyway. "Do you tell pretty lies to our Sam like that?"

"Only about his carpentry skills."

May covered her mouth and giggled. "Oh, it is good of you to visit, Frodo!" she exclaimed. "I just know I'm going to go out of my mind with boredom stuck in bed all day."

"I remember that feeling from when I was confined to my bed," Frodo said sympathetically. "And I also remember how glad I was not to be left alone and bored all day. So I come bearing gifts." He pulled a covered plate from his basket and laid it on her lap.

May inhaled. "Mmm, your pumpkin scones! Sam never stops boastin' about them."

"And rightly so," Frodo bragged, just to make her laugh. "This is best of all." He produced a small box with a flourish and shook out a worn deck of cards.

"What are they?" May asked curiously, lifting one of the pasteboard rectangles and studying the faded old picture.

"A dwarf friend of mine gave me these as a gift," Frodo explained, shuffling the cards under her curious gaze. "Let me teach you a game or two."

"You play games with them?"

Frodo just smiled.

~***~

May tossed down her cards in disgust. "I swear you're cheatin', Frodo Traveller," she accused.

The other hobbit just grinned and collected up the cards. "An accusation I've heard before," he said comfortably. "Another scone?"

May looked longingly at the buttered treats but shook her head. "I'm too full," she sighed.

"Not something that happens often when you're carrying," Frodo chuckled reminiscently and May tapped his hand smartly.

"Now you sound like Rory!"

"A healthy appetite makes a healthy baby," Frodo gave her his best Daisy impression and she covered her mouth and giggled.

"And a bit of weight on a hobbit looks healthy too," she pointed out slyly, nodding at his soft waistline.

Frodo gave her a mock glare and rubbed his belly ruefully. "I keep meaning to take long walks," he groaned. "But there's never the time."

"Ah well, it's all in a good cause," May said, shaping her hand over her round belly.

Frodo smiled, remembering how wonderful it felt to feel that life inside him, and then memory sparked. "Oh, I forgot!" he exclaimed. "My last present." He lifted a casserole dish out of the basket and laid it on the bedside table. "For Rory to warm up for your supper."

May reached out a hand and took one of his, squeezing it gently. "You're the best brother-in-law I have," she said huskily.

Touched, Frodo squeezed her hand back. Then he sought to lighten the moment. "And you're the best sister-in-law I have. But don't tell Daisy I said so!"

~***~

Frodo whistled under his breath as he strolled down the lane towards home. It was later than he'd thought and long shadows crossed the path in front of him.

From the side of the path one of the shadows took form and suddenly an elf was standing before him. It was almost a shock to Frodo after all this time home, how tall the elf seemed, how lofty with his feet planted wide and his hands hung loose by his sides.

"Good evening," Frodo said politely, his mind racing. Was this one of the elves camping in Bindbale? Were they indeed seeking help?

"I have a message for you, Master Baggins. From the Lady Cristar."

Frodo blinked in surprise, as much at the abrupt tone as the elf knowing his name.

"A message for me?" There was something familiar about the elf's stare, a sort of distant pity, a cool contempt that struck a bitter chord in Frodo's heart. Now his eyes raced over the tall form, the reddish gold hair, the dark traveling clothes, the gleaming silver pin on one shoulder of his cloak. It was shaped like the curious curved leaves of a fern.

Frodo's hands clenched into fists. "Who are you?"

"I am Rhasden. I serve the Lady Cristar. In the common tongue our clan is called Eastfern."

Ice lodged in Frodo's heart as his direst suspicion was confirmed and against his will his eyes flicked past the elf and down the lane towards home. Thank goodness he had not brought Fael along with him this afternoon! Thank goodness he was tucked up safe at home with Sam.

"What do you want?" he asked, glad beyond measure that his voice did not shake.

"Your presence, Master Baggins. The Lady Cristar requests that you bring the _Galinsell_ to her at her camp. I believe you know where that is."

Frodo shook his head in shocked denial. "What does your lady want with us?" he asked numbly. "And why on earth would she imagine I would deliver my child to her?"

"Before the sun is highest tomorrow, Master Hobbit. You have good reason to come."

With one last glance of pitying contempt the elf slipped back into the lengthening shadows and Frodo realised with a shock that the whole conversation had taken but moments. It felt to him as if hours had passed. The darkness around that had been so welcome just minutes before now seemed sinister and full of shadow and danger.

Urgent fear lent wings to Frodo's feet and he raced down the lane in the gathering darkness, gasping gratefully as he rounded the bend to see the lights of Bag End before him.

"Sam!" he called urgently, bursting through the back door and down the hall. "Sam!"

Bilbo was sitting in his arm chair with his book in his lap, Fael's cradle by his side. "What's all this noise?" he exclaimed, one hand to his chest. Fael stirred and began to wail. "Now see what you've done!"

"Where's Sam?" Frodo said wildly, crossing the kitchen and peering down the dark hall.

"Didn't you see him in the lane?"

Frodo gripped the door frame, whipping his head around at his uncle's words. "In the lane?" he whispered.

"Yes, he went to meet you when you were late. How could you miss him?"

Heart pounding Frodo tore down the hallway to the back door and peered into the darkness. "Sam?" he called. "Sam!" Night had fallen and in the distance the lights of Hobbiton dotted the landscape. But the laneway was empty and Frodo's voice echoed around the hill and was swallowed up by the shadows. "Oh, Sam."

Back in the kitchen he groped for a chair and sat, his legs weak beneath him.

Bilbo reached for his cane and banged it sharply on the flagstone floor. "Frodo Baggins! What is going on?"

"Traveller," Frodo corrected automatically, then shook his head, blinking away the frightened tears. Tears wouldn't help now, if this nightmare really was happening. Tears would not help Sam or Fael, who was still wailing out his displeasure at being disturbed. With a murmur of apology Frodo gathered him up to his shoulder and cuddled him close.

"Frodo! Where's Sam?" Bilbo asked sharply.

"I don't know." Frodo patted Fael's back as his wails turned to tired sobs and he buried his flushed face in his father's neck. "I don't know where he is. I don't know why this is happening now."

Frodo looked from the frail old hobbit sitting tensed in his armchair to the vulnerable babe in his arms. Why would the Eastferns have plucked Sam from the laneway and left Frodo with just a message? Why not simply burst into Bag End and take whatever they liked?

He shivered and held Fael closer. That one elf alone could have taken them by surprise if he'd wanted. That one elf alone could have cut through them all within moments. Frodo imagined himself coming home to Bag End, pushing open the door, finding his family, his child, his Sam...

"Frodo!" Bilbo exclaimed again. "I've never laid a hand on you in anger but I swear, if you don't tell me what's going on I will tan your backside good, Baggins, Traveller or Uncle Tom Cobbly!"

Frodo blinked again, banishing the horrible images from his mind. "I'm sorry, Uncle," he said again, swallowing hard. "On my way home I met an elf in the laneway. An Eastfern."

Now it was Bilbo's turn to stop and stare and Frodo wondered if the same thoughts were flying through his mind. How vulnerable and trusting they had been these last few months, walking down the laneways, sitting in their cosy little kitchen, blithely ignoring the darker shadows they all knew dwelled in the world.

And now those shadows had Sam.

Wanted Fael.

"But they wouldn't dare," Bilbo gasped. "Gandalf told me the oaths that were taken on both sides. That clan has sworn by their very blood to bring no harm to your family, Frodo."

"I've heard about their oaths before " Frodo said tersely. "And I'm not sure that I quite believe in them. Where else could Sam be? I will have good reason to come Rhasden said, and now I see what he meant. The Lady Cristar wants me to bring Fael to her in Bindbale, before noon tomorrow."

Bilbo glanced at the baby dozing on Frodo's shoulder, shock and horror in his eyes. "But why?" he whispered. "If they wanted him..." He broke off, unable to say the word. "They could have taken him from us at any time," he continued more firmly. "What game are they playing?"

"I don't know." Frodo looked around the room as if an answer could be found in its warm dimness. The fire burnt small in the grate, testimony to the warmth of a summer evening. One lantern stood on the windowsill, a tradition ages old, to guide a weary traveller home. Sam's absence was like a piece missing from within him.

He lifted his eyes to Bilbo. "I don't know what to do," he whispered.

Bilbo blinked his own damp eyes, then set his jaw. "You protect your son," he said firmly. "I don't know why these elves have come, but there's no doubt it's Fael in their sight. We must protect him."

"How?" Frodo appealed. "How can we protect him against folk like that? You don't know, Bilbo. You don't know what they were like, those shadows in the night."

"Nonsense," Bilbo dismissed. "I've faced unfriendly elves before, and Mirkwood ones at that. Those crazy brothers you faced from their clan proved they're fallible, Frodo, that they make mistakes. Don't build them up into something that cannot be defeated."

Frodo rubbed his cheek against Fael's soft curls for comfort. "But they have Sam," he said fearfully.

"Sam is big and strong and can protect himself. It's that baby you must protect now."

"How?"

Bilbo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There's has to be a way. Perhaps we can get a message to Gandalf?"

"No time." Frodo shook his head. "Noon tomorrow they said, and I don't doubt they meant it. Sam must be worried and frightened to death!"

"We can't do this alone," Bilbo finally said. "We need help-" He broke off and looked around, clutching at his cane. "What on earth is that?"

It was the sound of ponies hooves in the lane they could hear, and then there was a familiar call accompanying it.

"Hie, Frodo!"

"Merry?" Frodo said in wonder, hurrying to the back door and flinging it open. Merry was scrambling off the back of a pony, Pippin slid off another and stumbled towards him.

"Thank goodness you're safe, Frodo!" he cried. "Look who's here!"

Frodo peered into the darkness as a huge horse reined in at the gate and a tall lithe form slipped down nimbly and shook back shining fair hair.

"Legolas?" Frodo said in disbelief, feeling hope in his heart. "What are you doing here? How did you know?"

"Know?" Merry said, eyes searching behind Frodo in the door and finding only Bilbo. "Where's Sam, Frodo?"

Tears sprang into Frodo's eyes again and he shook them away, so glad to see his cousin's bright gaze, his friend's strong wise face.

"I fear we're too late," Legolas said gravely as he stepped over the low fence and easily jumped the stairs to the door. "The Eastferns?"

Frodo nodded dumbly and Pippin cried out in horror. "He's not dead?"

"No!" Frodo said fiercely.

"I don't believe his life is in danger from the Eastferns, Pippin," Legolas told him, laying a consoling hand on the young hobbit's shoulder. "But come, let us go inside." He glanced over his shoulder at the darkness. "I feel eyes watching us, ears listening."

"How can you know his life isn't in danger?" Frodo asked urgently as they all struggled into the cosy kitchen. Legolas sat gracefully on the stone floor and Merry collapsed onto a chair with a weary sigh.

"I was so hoping we'd get here in time," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. “I cannot know, Frodo. But the oaths taken by the Eastferns were not taken lightly," Legolas explained. "Whatever their purpose here they will not kill you or Sam or Fael."

"Then why take Sam?"

"I wish I knew. I only know what Gandalf's message told me. That Nestad had reported the Lady and her retinue were on their way west. I left everything behind and hurried south as fast as I could. Poor Gimli is trying to catch up."

"Legolas found us at Buckland quickly enough," Merry filled in. "Figuring rightly that it would be easier to find us there and have us lead him here." He slapped a hand on the table. "If only we'd been quicker!"

"But who is this Lady?" Pippin asked.

"Her name is Lady Cristar." Legolas met Frodo's eyes across the room. "You knew her son, Frodo. Silasigil he named himself."

"She is his mother?" Frodo repeated numbly. "And Glamren's?"

Legolas shook his head. "All three brother's had different mothers. It's not usual among my kind, but it's not unknown either. Glamren's mother was the oldest and first of their father's wives. She died long ago. Of the third brother, Brandereb, I know little."

"Sam killed her son," Frodo said in horror. "And yet you tell me you think these Eastferns will keep their oath? Sam may be dead already!"

"If they wanted us dead we'd all be dead," Bilbo said loudly. "And Fael taken too for that matter."

"The Lady Cristar has always been considered wise and just, Frodo," Legolas said sincerely. "I don't know what effect her son's death has had on her, but I can't believe she is here to break these blood oaths."

But Frodo was not so easily convinced. "I don't believe these Eastferns are bound to any oath," he said angrily. "Their hatred and bitterness led the brothers to their death and now their clan have invaded our homeland and stolen Sam away. Can you truly say that Fael isn't in danger from their madness? Legolas?"

His friend met his angry gaze openly. "I cannot."

Frodo read that truth in his elf friend's eyes and his heart clenched in fear. A few minutes ago he would have given anything for some way to protect his son while he went to help Sam. Now a way stood before him but wasn't sure he had the courage to take it.

"They want me to take Fael to them before noon tomorrow," he told Legolas, ignoring Merry and Pippin's angry exclamations. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the elf's wise blue gaze. "If I don't they may come for him. And we can't protect him." He paused for a moment and gathered his strength. "Not here," he finally managed.

Understanding lit his elf friend's eyes. "Frodo?" he asked quietly. "Are you sure?"

Merry looked from Legolas to the hobbit suspiciously. "Sure about what?"

"It's the only way," Frodo returned.

"What?" Pippin said.

"What's in your head, Frodo?" Merry frowned.

Bilbo tilted his head. "That might work," he said slowly.

Merry shook his head as understanding dawned. "You can't mean it," he said in disbelief. "That's crazy!"

"What's crazy?" Pippin cried.

"Frodo wants Legolas to take Fael," Merry told him, voice curt. "It's crazy, Frodo. He's been traveling hard for a week, two days behind those Eastferns all the way. You can't send him out into the darkness with a small baby."

"Oh, no," Pippin whispered. "Take Fael away? Frodo, you can't!"

"I don't have a choice!" Frodo exclaimed. "We can't protect him if they come for him, and oath or not they will have to kill me before they come near my son!"

"We'll all protect him!" Merry shot back. "They'll have to kill us all to take him!"

"Do you think they won't?" Frodo said desperately. "They tried to kill him before he was born, Merry! They tried to cut him from my body!"

Pippin put his hand over his mouth in horror and Merry swallowed hard.

"Sam still bears the scar on his neck where they tried to cut his throat," Frodo continued relentlessly. "I won't let them near Fael, and I can't protect him here!"

"But they're watching the house!" Merry pointed out hotly. "Send them out there now and you may be sending them to their deaths!"

"Now calm down, lads," Bilbo said bracingly, tapping his cane on the floor. "We're all on the same side here, and we all want the same thing, to protect Fael." He beetled his brows at them and they subsided.

Frodo patted Fael's back to give himself comfort, his heart still beating hard. How could he expect Merry to understand what it meant to face such an ancient and powerful enemy? How could he expect him to know when he had never fled those shadows in the night?

Bilbo waited for silence and subsided back into his chair. He turned to the quiet elf. "Legolas, dear chap. If you can get out of the house unseen do you think you have a chance to get the lad away from here?"

Legolas nodded his head. "If I can leave undetected. But they are watching the house, Bilbo. At least two of them."

"Yes, well, they may be watching the house, but I doubt they know all of its secrets. Few do." He turned to his young cousin. "You do, Merry, unless you've forgotten. We never used it but I showed you the tunnel once, remember?"

"The back way," Merry breathed, shaking his head. "I had forgotten it."

"You have back ways too?" Pippin asked. "We have at least two back home, and I think there's one my father never told me about."

"The Great Smials have two that I know of as well," Merry agreed.

"Most of the big older houses do," Bilbo said impatiently. "But do you think elves know that?"

They turned to look at Legolas and he shook his head. "I don't think elves know much about hobbits at all," he confessed. "At least I have never heard much mention of them, nor read a book about them."

Bilbo chuckled. "Big Folk never did concern themselves with our doings. A fact I've never been more grateful for." He rubbed his hands together. "I have to say I think this is a workable plan. Not ideal, sending Legolas out on his own, but better than sitting here worrying that they'll just come and take him."

Somehow Bilbo agreeing with him made Frodo feel worse. Perhaps if the older hobbit had argued, perhaps if he had insisted they keep the baby there with them then Frodo could have agreed, told himself he'd done his best, kept his son in his arms where all his instincts screamed at him that he could protect him.

But that would be the wrong decision and Frodo knew it. These elves had plucked Sam away without effort. How long before they stretched out their hand for Fael?

"But where will you go?" Pippin said tearfully.

Legolas looked to Frodo, the same thought in both their minds.

"Rivendell," Frodo said quietly. "To Elrond. When Sam and I have dealt with this we will follow after you."

"Rivendell's weeks away," Merry said miserably and Frodo's belly clenched at the thought. Weeks away, when Fael had never been beyond crying distance from one of his parents since the hour of his birth. He hated this! But the warm trusting weight of his son on his shoulder would not let him give in to weakness. He owed it to this beloved child he'd created to keep him safe.

"Pippin, will you get Fael's bottles from the cooling stone in the pantry?" he said briskly, before he could change his mind. "Merry, you remember where we keep his sling? Can you fetch it and loosen the straps so it fits Legolas?"

His cousins stared at him for long moments.

"Hurry!" he snapped. "The more time we can give Legolas the better their chances are at escape!"

Merry jumped to his feet and Pippin followed. Bilbo heaved himself from his chair as well.

"I'll fetch a few things from the pantry," he said. "Pack some food for Legolas, find a satchel he can wear on his back."

"I can carry you too, Frodo," the elf said softly when the other hobbits were out of ear shot. "I've done it before."

Frodo just smiled sadly and shook his head. "You'll have a better chance with just this light weight. Besides." He laid his cheek on Fael's hair. "I'm still as selfish as ever I was," he murmured. "I have to find Sam you see, and be with him, even if it is our end. Fael will survive without us, if he must. But we can't survive without each other, Sam and I."

Legolas shaped his hand around the crown of the sleeping child's head where he lay against Frodo's chest. "Is that what Sam would want?"

"Oh, no," Frodo confessed. "In fact it goes against a promise I forced him to make." He quirked a sad smile. "But I know he'd do the same, Legolas. I know he would."

"He'd know as you do that you can trust your son to me," Legolas swore. "I will keep him safe for you no matter what the cost."

"Thank you." Frodo turned his back on the room as his cousins hurried back and preparations were made. While the satchel was packed and the sling fitted he gazed out into the fireplace and savoured these last precious moments with his son. Fael was a warm weight against his shoulder, his narrow back rising and falling with his breaths, his translucent eyelids fluttering as baby dreams and memories flitted behind his eyes.

Too soon silence fell behind him and he turned to see them waiting, Legolas standing now, his head bowed but still brushing the smoke stained ceiling.

Frodo breathed once more the scent of his child then whispered almost silently into a small pointed ear.

"Don't forget me."

And then he was handing Fael over and they carefully slipped him into his sling and tucked him against Legolas' wide chest. The elf pulled his coat around him and shrugged the satchel onto his back.

"This way," Frodo said hoarsely, taking a candle and leading the way down the hall to the darkest end where cellar and sub cellar lay. Cool dim rooms filled with sacks of vegetables and lined with apples, carefully separated on their shelves so one bad one wouldn't spoil a shelf full. He pulled aside a wine rack where only a few dusty bottles lay, revealing a dark wooden door that creaked quietly as he slid the bolts free and opened it.

"A tight fit," Bilbo whispered. "And you'll have some bushes to push your way through on the other end. Gorse too, if I remember rightly."

"I'll not leave the tunnel if there's anyone out there," Legolas said softly. "Wait five minutes. If I'm not back then I'm on my way, and bolt the door and cover it again." He met Frodo's eyes in the candle light and nodded, just once. Frodo nodded back, heart in his throat.

And then they were gone.

Five minutes passed but not one of the hobbits moved or spoke, sensitive ears straining for a sound from the darkness outside. Would there even be a sound? Frodo wondered numbly. He remembered the silent deadly shadows in the night and shivered in the cold cellar air.

_I'm sorry, Fael, he thought. All my reasons for bringing you into the world were selfish ones. But you know how much I love you now, don't you? If I could trade my life to spare you from the shadows that wish you harm I would._

"Frodo," Merry whispered by his ear. "Bilbo needs to rest. Let's shut the door, hmm?"

With a start Frodo realised that he was numb with cold, his legs stiff from standing on the chill stone floor. How much time had passed? How far away were they now?

"Yes," he agreed, and together he and Merry closed the old wooden door and drew the stiff bolts home. Then they pulled the wine rack back into place and it was as if the door had never been there.

"I'll put the kettle on," Pippin said thickly and they all followed him down the hall to the kitchen. Warm summer night or not Frodo felt chilled to the bone as he collapsed into a chair, and he shivered gratefully as Pippin stirred the small fire to life and pushed the kettle back over it.

The chill of his flesh echoed the emptiness of his soul and the cold place against his heart where his son had lain just a little while ago.

"You should rest, Frodo," Merry said into the silence of the room. "We all should. Tomorrow we have to face those elves, and we'll need all our strength to do it."

Frodo shook his head. "You two have done enough," he told his cousins. "They have no quarrel with you and there's no reason to think they'll harm you unless you get in their way."

"Well we're not letting you go alone!" Pippin protested. His eyes were red and swollen, his voice thick. "We have our swords and we're ready to fight by your side."

"They have to believe that Fael is here," Frodo said tiredly, feeling a weary pain behind his eyes. "They have to think I wouldn't leave him unless it was under your protection." He reached out and took Pippin's hand, feeling the cold fingers grasp his gratefully. Merry sat on his other side and took his free hand, squeezing it tightly.

"If they truly keep their oaths then Sam and I have nothing to fear from them. They've taken no such oaths about you."

"But you don't believe they will keep their oaths, do you, Frodo? How can you ask us to sit here and let you go to your death?"

"How can I sit here while my son gets further and further away from me?" Frodo said miserably. "I can because I must." He squeezed his cousins hands and tried a small smile. "It's not as dire as all that, lads. Sam and I have been through much worse and escaped with our skins intact." He looked down at the stump of his finger in Pippin's grasp and snorted. "Well, almost intact. If we don't have anyone else to worry about we can do whatever it takes to get through this."

"Really?" Pippin asked.

Frodo smiled and nodded, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. There was a pain inside him like a jagged wound but he couldn't give into that pain, he couldn't let himself think of Fael, he had done all he could for him. All his energies now had to be directed towards Sam.

Frodo had known long nights before in his life, when all the world was darkness and it seemed as if dawn would never come. But sitting sleepless by the window of the room he shared with Sam, Frodo spent the longest and loneliest night he could ever remember.

And Fael was getting further and further away.

~***~

There was no true darkness to an elf. There was only the gentle light of the moon instead of the forceful power of the sun. They painted the world with different shades and laid down different shadows on the earth. Like the earth they had their own heartbeats.

Another heart beat against his now and Legolas curved a hand around the hobbit baby's small skull. The sling pressed him tight against his chest, and the baby slept peacefully, despite their swift pace, his head turned and his cheek resting against the elf's jerkin. Legolas smiled as small puffs of breath cooled his skin where drool had dampened the fabric.

This infant was proving to be as hardy as his parents.

He would need to be.

The tunnel had been narrow and the entrance tight, covered with old gorse and tangled blackberry canes. Legolas had pushed through it as silently as possible, trying not to leave tracks sensitive elf eyes could detect. The silent hillside had been dark, no life other than an old striped badger that watched him incuriously before lumbering away.

His first instinct was to turn north and press for old Angmar where even now Gimli was sure to be making his way towards the Shire. But to do so from here would be to pass too close to Bindbale where the Eastferns where camped. There would be eyes out in that wood and no safe passage past. Legolas closed his eyes and tried to remember more from the one glimpse he'd had of a Shire map, months before at Rivendell.

He eventually decided that if he headed south he could cross The Water and turn east back towards the borders where he had found Merry and Pippin. From there to Rivendell.

Long legs ate up the way, ears straining for any sight or sound. He wanted many miles under his belt before dawn, there were woods ahead of him, he could smell them. He needed to make their cover before the sun rose. He could not risk being seen.

Fael stretched and yawned against him and Legolas patted his narrow back without slowing his pace. How long before his little belly needed filling? Remembering the appetite of hobbits Legolas drew on more strength and increased his pace.

~***~

"Both the ponies are saddled," Pippin reported. "I put Sam's sword on his saddle. Just in case."

Frodo picked up his own sword and hefted the weight. He'd sworn never to carry one again, in these days of peace. He tightened his hand around the grip. He'd sworn never to take life again as well.

Merry stared at him gravely. "Are you sure, Frodo?"

"I'm sure."

He didn't look back as he set off down the lane. His path would take him on the road a short way and then across country to Bindbale Wood, on the outskirts of the North Farthing. He doubted he'd have to go all the way to Oatbarton to find the elves camp, they would surely find him long before that.

Were they watching him now, he wondered. Taking note that he didn't have Fael with him? Had they really expected he would deliver his child into their hands?

Folk waved and called out curiously as he rode past, another pony tethered to his saddle and following close behind. He hadn't ridden like this since the day they'd arrived back into the Shire after the quest, not yet two years ago now. Farmer Cotton called out from his paddock but Frodo only waved and shook his head. He'd delayed as long as he could to give Legolas the time he needed to make good his escape, but he could delay no longer if he wanted to reach the wood by noon.

The sun was indeed climbing high into the sky when the thick green trees came into sight. Movement at its edge drew Frodo closer and as he took the narrow walking path northwards he saw a flash of golden cloth in the trees before him. Setting his jaw he followed the occasional flash until finally when the trees met overhead and the forest was at its thickest the form before him stopped and let his ambling pony catch up.

It was an elven lady, long dark hair laying in plaits over her shoulders, another circlet of plaits crisscrossed with silver wrapped around her crown. Her face was a pale oval in the filtered light and she nodded to Frodo as he slipped from his pony and held its reins tight.

"I am the Lady Cristar," she said serenely. "Why did you not bring the _Galinsell_ with you?"

"Why did you think I would?" Frodo returned just as quietly. "When your son already tried to kill him once?"

"It is because of my son you are here," the Lady shot back, her smooth white brow untroubled.

"Where's Sam?"

The Lady smiled and turned to follow the path deeper in the woods. Frodo tethered the pony to a branch and followed her.

There was something hauntingly familiar about the smooth graceful movements of the elf before him, her straight back, the delicate steps on the path. It was still hard for Frodo to believe that he could find himself the enemy of such a people, and he tightened his grip on the sword sheathed by his side. Now that it came down to it his fear was gone, his blood was pumping through his veins, his eyes flickering about him as he walked. All his senses were focused on Sam and when he heard that dear voice call his name he thought his heart would pound right out of his chest.

"Frodo! Let me go, you villain!"

"Sam?" He hurried his steps into the clearing before him where weeping willow fronds fluttered gently in the thin breeze winding through the wood. Sam was on the other edge of the clearing, hands behind his back, struggling in the hold of Rhasden. At a gesture from the Lady the other elf set him free and Frodo couldn't help the smile that split his face as his beloved raced towards him, taking his outstretched hands and gripping tightly.

"Oh, Sam," he breathed as Sam skidded on the grass and stood before him, toffee curls askew, his face smeared with dirt and tears.

"Frodo, you fool," he said in exasperation. "What on earth did you come here for?" But the hands that took his gripped tight and Sam's eyes were filled with joy.

"Glad to see you too, love," Frodo murmured, squeezing back for a moment before sharpening his attention on the Lady and the elves gathered around her across the clearing. Sam let go his hands but stepped back by his side, his warm strong presence giving Frodo strength.

"Why have you come to our realm?" Frodo asked loudly. "Didn't your clan swear an oath to leave us in peace?"

"We swore not to pursue vengeance on you," the Lady said gently. "Or to take your life." She spread pale white hands wide. "We have done neither."

"You stole me right from my front door!" Sam accused hotly.

"If it's not vengeance you desire then why come here at all? Why demand our child for Sam's release?"

The Lady inclined her head. "I am sorry that was necessary. I thought only to get this over and done, without long drawn out arguments and councils."

Frodo shook his head. "Get what done? What do you want?"

"What you took from me," she returned simply. "A son."

Frodo tightened his grip on the sword at his side. "What?"

The Lady stepped forward and a shaft of sunlight lit her face. It was easier to see now, her resemblance to her son. But there was no contempt in her eyes, no hatred. There was only sadness.

"You said you'd sworn not to take our lives!" Sam shouted but Frodo could only stand silently as he gazed into those leaf green eyes, deep sorrow catching his breath and tearing into his heart.

He reached out and caught Sam's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Sam," he said softly.

Sam frowned at him and then followed his gaze and Frodo felt it too, the moment when Sam saw what he had seen. The moment Sam understood it.

"My son's name was Alodach. When he was older he took another name." She nodded at Frodo again. "You know it, don't you."

"Silasigil," Frodo said softly and he felt Sam jerk again.

"Yes." She turned her sad gaze on Sam. "You killed him."

Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "I did," he admitted bravely. "He left me no choice."

"I know. I have the gift of sight you see. I saw that night from far away. I saw him pull his dagger from its sheath, the dagger he was so proud of, the one he named himself after. I knew in that moment it would soon strike him to his heart."

"If you saw then you know," Frodo said carefully. "You know that we didn't have a choice that night. Your son sealed his own fate."

"I saw and I know," the Lady returned poignantly. "He made his choice."

Frodo breathed out shakily. "Then why are you here?" he implored. "Why do this?"

"Because there should not have been a choice for him to make. Councils wiser than I can argue forever but they will not convince me that the healer made the right choice when he cast that spell on you. Can you deny that in casting that spell he cost my son his life?"

Frodo squeezed Sam's hand tightly. "What have you done to Nestadren?"

The Lady shook her head. "Nothing. I will do nothing to you. I am not my son, I do not solve my problems with a sharp blade."

"You said you want our son." Sam frowned. "If you don't want his life then what do you want?"

"Him," the Lady said simply. "A life for a life. A son for a son."

Frodo shook his head in disbelief. "You want to take him from us?" he gasped, trying to understand. "Why?"

"To raise him. To love him."

Sam was shaking his head now, curls flying. "You must be cracked," he said, his chest heaving. "To raise and love him? When your own son tried to kill him afore he was even born? How stupid do you think we are?"

"I think you foolish, not stupid," the Lady returned. "You were desperate for a cure and in your desperation you accepted a spell that should never have been. In your selfish desire for your life you recklessly bought new life into this world, a life that should never have been."

"You shut your mouth," Sam yelled while Frodo struggled to draw a deep breath against the pain her words caused. They cut deep, too deep, mirroring as they did his deepest guilt and fear over his own selfish acts. "How dare you say that!"

"Like the children you resemble you thoughtlessly brought that life into the world. Do you deny my own son would be alive if yours had not been born?"

"You want to know what I think about your son, Lady?" Sam began, letting go of Frodo's hand and stepping forward. "I think he was evil, pure and simple. You might be mournin' him and I'm sorry for you, I am. But I can't feel sorry for him, nor sorry for what I did to him, awful as that sounds." Sam set his jaw stubbornly. "Blame me for his death, for kill him I did when he would have killed us. But leave my son out of it."

"My son now," the Lady said firmly, something in her voice drawing their gaze to hers. "He will be my son. He will grow up in my home, speaking my language." As she spoke she took her own step closer and Frodo now found his eyes locked to hers, their green fire drawing him in. "He will call me mother," she continued relentlessly and though he tried to close his eyes to the power of her words and eyes he couldn't escape the brilliant green.

"He will forget you ever existed."

And suddenly it was green grass Frodo saw, bright as emerald under a brilliant sapphire sky. A hobbit ran, a small child, downy feet eating up the sward, golden curls streaming behind him as little legs pumped. His face was alight with joy, wide blue eyes shining, forget-me-nots aflame.

Arms were held out to him, her shimmering golden gown gleaming in the summer light as they caught him up and held him close to her breast. Pale skin gleamed with flushed pleasure, soft pink lips lovingly caressed a glowing cheek. The hobbit threw back his head and laughed his joy, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"My son," the Lady whispered and Frodo jerked awake as if from a dream. Sam was on his knees beside him and Frodo dropped down next to him, wrapping one arm around heaving shoulders.

"What did you do to us?" he said thickly, feeling Sam shiver beneath his arm.

"Gave you a glimpse of the future," the Lady said softly. "When the brilliant light of his sunshine is mine."

Chest pained, eyes stinging Frodo gazed up at her. "You can't do this," he said through his tight throat. "He's our son." He barely suppressed a sob at the memory of smiling blue eyes in that golden embrace. "You've no right to him!"

The Lady shook her head, and there was pity in her eyes now. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "It never occurred to me that you would have come to love him. But I will not let that sway me."

Sam scrubbed at his cheeks with his hands and struggled to his feet. "I'll just bet it never occurred to you," he said thickly. "Your elf magic don't fool me. Nor do your sweet words and sad face." He sniffed and straightened, staring proudly at her through swollen eyes. Frodo took his arm and stood by him, swaying on his feet.

"You're no different from your son, underneath," Sam accused. "He looked at us like we was bugs under his feet, like we weren't real with thoughts and feelin's of our own, and here you do the same! Did you really believe we'd just hand him to you?"

Frodo found his own strength returning as Sam's voice hardened.

"You're right about why we created that baby, but you have no idea how," Sam continued. "T'weren't no elf spell alone, and I reckon you know it, in whatever you have that passes for a heart. It were in love he was made and in love he grew. And love every day of his life since he was born. Take our son away?" he said incredulously. "You'll have to kill us first."

Frodo followed his gaze and took over as Sam set his jaw stubbornly. He looked beyond the lady to the other elves that stood around her, their faces dappled by the sunlight in the glade. "And then you will be forsworn," Frodo said quietly. "Murderers. Kidnappers. Do you think you face only two little hobbits now?"

He glanced at Sam and then turned back to the silent elves, looking at each one in turn, catching their eye, trying to look into their hearts.

"We were Ringbearers," he continued proudly. "We count among our friends and allies True Elves and Dwarves. Wizards and Princes and Kings of Men. If you do this thing you will find you have set your hand against every one of them and more besides."

Among the party of elves there were those that met his gaze with cool contempt. But one or two turned their eyes away from his and cast their faces down. Rhasden was one of them.

"You will bring your clan to war," he finished and there was only silence in the glade for long moments.

The Lady broke it first. "It need never come to battle," she said gently. "I would not like to see it so, for there are many halflings in this realm we have not taken oaths to spare." She studied them a moment longer, one brow raised pointedly, before taking a step away.

"You have until dawn."

The hobbits watched as the Lady made her graceful way across the clearing, one by one her retinue falling into place behind her. Only Rhasden stood facing them for last long moments, his face inscrutable. And then he too turned and walked away.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo whispered.

Sam scrubbed at his face again. "I never thought to get out of this forest alive," he numbly. "I thought you dead, love, and Fael with you. And if you were dead I couldn't understand why I was alive and I didn't want to be."

Frodo took his hands again and let himself be drawn into a tight embrace. He held Sam close, inhaling his familiar scent, running his hands down his broad back.

"We're both safe, Sam," he murmured, hoping it was true. He drew back, lifting one hand and rubbing at a grubby tear track on Sam's cheek. "Let's get out of here."

The ponies were where he left them and he and Sam swiftly mounted and turned their heads back down the path that led out of the wood into the sunlight.

The warmth was like a blessing on his face after the dim closeness of the wood and Frodo turned his head to it, eyes half closed.

"Why did you come?" Sam asked worriedly. "You should have been at home guarding Fael! For all we know they could have been there while you were fetching me and stolen him away!"

Frodo shook his head, digging his heels in the pony's flanks to hasten his pace.

"If the Lady had only wanted to steal him they could have done that last night, instead of taking you away."

Sam shrugged his agreement. "Not her," he said bitterly. "Thinks she's too civilised to steal him from our arms, reckons we should just hand him over." He snorted. "All the same, Frodo, you oughtn't to have left the baby. He's more important than me."

"Merry and Pippin are back at the house," Frodo told him, glancing around as they rode as swiftly as they dared across country. He didn't trust the ears of elves enough to confide all his news. "Fael is as safe as I can make him, Sam, I swear it."

Sam nodded, his brow still wrinkled. "But for how long?" he said desperately. "Right now she's playing Lady Muck and actin' all civilised, but what happens when we don't give her Fael? You heard the threats, veiled as they were. They're goin' to try to take him. How do we fight that?"

Frodo didn't answer, he kept his eyes on their way until at last they found the road again and were almost home. Then he turned a glance to Sam, eyes running over his sturdy form as he sat grim faced on his pony. They were side by side again and Fael was as safe as he could make him. Whatever came next they could handle.

~***~

"Sam! Merry, Frodo's bought Sam home!" Pippin ran to meet them at the gate, lifting his hand to the pony's bridle as Frodo reined him in.

Merry jumped down the stone steps and leapt the fence, reaching out and hauling Sam down from his pony.

"Here, watch it!" Sam protested as he was engulfed in a huge hug. But he was smiling as he slapped Merry's back.

"You worried the life out of us!" Merry accused, holding him at arms length now and shaking his shoulders.

Pippin had his arm wrapped around Frodo's waist and was grinning widely. "I can't believe you did it, Frodo!" he was exclaiming. "How on earth did you get away?"

"They let us go," Frodo said, tethering the pony to the fence. "They've got bigger plans for us."

"Where's Fael?" Sam said urgently, pushing through the gate and taking the steps two at a time. "You shouldn't have left him alone for a moment, lads." He stepped in through the back door, not noticing the glances the three cousins exchanged behind him. "I won't rest easy until I've seen him safe and sound."

Merry raised his brows at Frodo who shook his head a little. "Inside," he said lowly and with a glance at the late afternoon shadows around them Merry and Pippin followed him into the house.

"Sam!" Bilbo greeted, standing up from his chair with a grimace. "Thank goodness you're home and safe."

Sam glanced around the kitchen, peering into the empty cradle. "Where's the baby?" He looked at Bilbo first and then turned slowly and faced Frodo in the doorway behind him. "Frodo? Where's Fael?"

Frodo met Sam's eyes, his heart aching. "With Legolas," he said simply. "I sent him away with Legolas last night after you were taken."

Sam gaped at him incredulously. "With Legolas? You sent our baby off alone with only one elf to protect him? When there's a dozen out there who want to steal him away from us?" Sam grabbed Frodo's shoulders and shook them. "How could you do that?" he demanded.

"Steady on, Sam!" Merry protested, but Frodo didn't struggle to get away or fight the desperate grip of the hands. He could see the same desperate fear and worry in his dear love's eyes that must be in his own.

"I didn't know what else to do," he whispered. "I just knew I couldn't protect him." He pulled away from Sam's now slack hands and slipped out of the room and down the hall, hearing the clamour of voices in the kitchen behind him. From Sam he could hear nothing.

When Sam came and sat down beside him on the bed Frodo was sitting gazing out the window again, Fael's little elven shirt in his hands. He was smoothing his fingers over the soft fabric, tracing the delicate stitches and trailing laces absently.

"I'm sorry I got mad," Sam said, looking down at his own empty hands in his lap. "I've just spent the last day longing to see you both safe and well, to put my arms around you. To come back and find him gone..."

"I really didn't know what else to do, Sam," Frodo confessed and with a low groan Sam wrapped his arms around him and drew him close.

"My poor Frodo," he whispered roughly. "Of course you did the right thing! Our lad's as safe as he can be because you made the right choice, and I'm breathing easier that he's away from all this, I am."

Frodo leaned into the warm embrace, closing his eyes and hugging the little shirt to his chest.

"It's just... Oh, Frodo," Sam mumbled into his hair. "I'm so scared for him. I so want to have him here in our arms."

Tears he'd been damning up for twenty four hours sprang into Frodo's eyes and poured down his cheeks as huge sobs choked him.

"Sam," he sobbed, clutching Sam's shoulders tightly, feeling Sam's strong trembling hands hold him close. "Oh. Sam."

"Don't you cry, love," Sam said fiercely in his ear. "As soon as we sort these elves out we'll follow after Legolas and bring our lad home, where he belongs. All right?"

Frodo nodded, tears still running down his cheeks, grief still blocking his voice.

~***~

Morning passed in the dim corner of the wood and Legolas spent it resting easily on a broad tree branch, his back against the wide trunk. Fael was awake and squirming and Legolas pulled him from his sling and let him sit in his lap, marvelling how small the hobbit baby still seemed, although much bigger than the last time he'd really gotten a good look at him, months before at Rivendell. Fael sat with his back straight, leaning against Legolas' chest and looking around the wood with interest.

"Not used to such a view, Fael?" the elf said softly and the baby turned his head and studied him curiously. Putting one hand out he touched a long strand of blonde hair and then grabbed a handful. Legolas bore the small tugs stoically, only calling a halt when Fael lifted the handful to his mouth.

"It wouldn't taste very nice I'm afraid, dear one," Legolas told him, kissing his small fingers. He rummaged in the satchel and found a small hard biscuit which he sniffed curiously. Fael's eyes brightened at the sight of it and he held out his hand. Unsure what use a toothless baby had for such a hard biscuit the elf handed it over, watching unsurprised as it was carried swiftly to the baby's mouth. After a few minutes it became apparent that Fael's only desire was to gum on it and Legolas leaned back against the tree's broad trunk and watched him.

The day was warm, the noon day sun high and the border of the Shire was near, but Legolas couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension stealing over him. So far his journey had been uneventful, he had stayed out of sight of hobbits and had not felt even the merest hint of elfkind. But now on the edges of his senses Legolas could feel something, although he was not yet sure if it was a threat.

Fael suddenly tired of his biscuit and with a flick of his wrist flung it away. It bounced down the branches into the soft grass below. The baby smacked his lips together and Legolas shook his head.

"You can't be hungry again," he protested. "They only gave me two bottles for you and they are both gone."

The baby smacked his lips together and frowned, rubbing the back of his sticky mouth with a small fist. Legolas lifted the hem of the damp bib and wiped away the remains of the rusk but Fael's mood was growing mutinous.

"All right," the elf agreed, recognising the signs of impending tears and fearing a babe's cry would attract unwanted attention. "There's a farm nearby, they will have a well and we may help ourselves to water. But no milk until we are safer, hobbitling! We cannot risk being seen by anyone this day!"

He lifted Fael back into the sling and leapt nimbly from the branch, turning his mouth up in a smile as Fael squeaked and chuckled at the swift movements. Running down the worn track Legolas soon found the farmhouse, but now he faced a dilemma. Fael was making discontented noises against his chest again that would soon turn to wails. And in the barn ahead was a dairy with milk he could smell from here.

It seemed he would be turning thief today.

By stealth he made his way past farm dogs dozing in the midday sun and into the cool stone floored dairy adjacent the old barn. But in the end he could not simply take the milk after all. Carefully he took off a silver cuff he wore around one ear lobe and laid in in the centre of the empty milk dish. And then with both bottles full he slipped out of the barn and made for the wood once more.

~***~

"Mother, did you see that?" Farmer Hasty said in astonishment. His wife looked up from her lunch.

"See what?"

By the window, tankard still clutched in his hoary fist old Farmer Hasty stood gaping. "An elf," he said. "I swear I saw an elf, long golden hair and all. He was leavin' our barn."

Mrs. Hasty shook her head and forked up another mouthful of parsnip. "You old fool," she chided. "What would an elf want in our barn? And how would you know an elf if you saw one anyway?"

But later she had to admit he might have seen an elf after all, when a fine silver ring that slipped easily onto her pinkie finger was found in an empty dish where milk had been poured to cool. She stroked the fine circlet of silver thoughtfully

"Do you think if I left out cream he'd leave me a bracelet next time?"

~***~

"Dawn she said?" Bilbo repeated thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Nice of them to give us time to prepare."

"There's nothin' nice about this Lady," Sam said grimly. He and Frodo sat shoulder to shoulder, hands firmly clasped.

"She's an evil witch," Pippin said angrily. "Just like one of those old story book witches, stealing babies from their cradles."

"And threatening other hobbits in Hobbiton to do it," Merry agreed.

"That's a good point," Bilbo said. "This isn't just our fight now, lads. Folk around here have a right to know they're in danger."

"We can't get innocent hobbits involved in this," Frodo protested.

"We're innocent hobbits," Sam pointed out. "And she's the one who's gettin' them involved."

"Sam's right." Bilbo banged a fist on the table and everyone jumped. "That's what we have to do."

"What?"

"Send word to every hobbit we can reach. We've heard a lot about invaders who strolled into the Shire and took it over while we were all away. I don't reckon folk around here will take too kindly to these invaders coming here and threatening their very lives!"

"But if we stir folk up it might come to a battle." Frodo shook his head. "We can't let that happen again."

"I don't reckon it's up to us any more," Sam told him sadly.

"I hate the thought of another battle as much as you do, Frodo," Pippin said, his eyes dark with old memories. Merry rubbed a comforting arm around his cousin's shoulders, his own eyes shadowed.

"But if we have to fight them to keep Fael safe and give Legolas time to get him away then that's what we have to do."

"And if that takes asking friends and neighbours to stand by us then we do that too," Bilbo agreed. He looked around the table. "Perhaps it won't come to it, ey? Perhaps your words convinced the Lady she was making a mistake? Legolas said she was considered just and wise."

"Yes," Pip said hopefully. "Maybe now she knows that Fael is loved and wanted they'll think better of trying to take him away."

Frodo and Sam exchanged looks. They had not told the others about the vision the Lady had forced on them, of Fael in her arms. It was too raw and painful, like a new wound. They had not even discussed it between themselves.

"I'm not sure I know what elves mean when they call someone just and wise," Sam said slowly. "The way these folks think is beyond my understandin'. But it's doubtful to me the Lady was even listenin' to our words back there. She come here with her mind set and determined to take Fael away. I don't know what could change that."

"It's her heart she has set on it," Frodo said, his hand unconsciously resting on his belly. "A mother's heart, sore and broken."

"You can't think like that," Bilbo said sternly. "Whether it's a mother's grief or a mother's vengeance she feels, she's left us no choice but to fight her. Right up to that empty cradle before they realise that Fael isn't in it."

Their eyes met around the table again and Frodo could read the determination in every one. In his minds eye was the memory of those shadows in the night that had haunted his dreams for months, waking him in the early hours in a cold sweat. They had taken on the aspect of monsters in his mind but now he could read the determination of his loved ones to fight those monsters, whatever the cost. He had to believe now that they could be defeated.

"All right," he said. "Merry, Pip, take the ponies and go as far afield as you can. Sam, you and I will go the closer farms and homes. We owe it to our neighbours to warn them." He looked around at the brave faces of his family. "We have till dawn."

He stood and then swayed as the kitchen whirled around him.

"Whoa, Frodo," Sam exclaimed, grasping his elbow.

"Sit down, Frodo," Merry said in concern. "He's not slept a wink, Sam. He fretted all night for you and Fael."

"I'm all right," Frodo mumbled, feeling the drag of weariness in his limbs.

"You stay right where you are," Sam ordered firmly. "Merry and Pip and I will go warn our neighbours."

"But, Sam, you were the one who was a captive all night!" Frodo protested. It was Bilbo who interrupted him.

"Listen to Sam, Frodo," he said, covering Frodo's trembling hand with his own. "We'll need you when dawn rolls around, and you won't be any good to anyone if you collapse."

"Please, Frodo," Sam said, standing and cupping a loving hand around his shoulder. "You know me, even tied up on the floor of that tent I managed to sleep. I'm fine."

"Oh, Sam," Frodo said, shaking his head. But he stayed in his seat when the other hobbits armed themselves and clattered away. In truth he wasn't sure he could even move.

~***~

Frodo didn't realise he'd dozed off where he sat, but he must have because he began to dream.

Darkness surrounded him and the thick cloying smell of earth filled his nostrils. He was hiding because death was very close and he had something precious to protect. His ears strained in the darkness but all he could hear was the terrified pounding of his own heart.

In the midst of the darkness a tiny point of light began to glow and a curious kind of peace settled within him. Without stumbling he pushed his way through the earth into the night, fearless now as that point of light grew within him, filling him, banishing the shadows even as they moved towards him, black evil in their hearts.

Suddenly the soft glow became a blaze of light, engulfing the shadows, burning away the blackness in its white gold light. Then the light faded back into that gentle glow again, its warmth within him softly stirring, peering over one pale shoulder.

And then it smiled.

Frodo woke with a start, hand flying to his belly, chest heaving.

"Frodo?" Sam's hand was on his shoulder again and Frodo turned to him, blinking dazedly.

"Sam? What time is it?"

"Near midnight, I've just got back. You should have laid down to rest."

"There'll be time for rest later," Frodo said absently, frowning as he recalled fragments of his waking dream. What did it mean? His memory of it was fading but it had left behind it a curious warmth and peace. And an anticipation stirring in his breast.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Fael's nearby."

Sam just stared at him. "How do you know?"

Frodo shook his head. "I don't know how. I just do." He stood up, dizziness gone, weariness buried beneath eager hope. A smile blossomed on his face. "He's coming back!" And then he was off and running, feet slipping on the tiles in the hall as he found his way through the darkness by instinct alone. Sam cursed behind him as he stubbed his toe but Frodo didn't pause, hands in front of him he stumbled into the cellar and pulled at the wine rack, struggling with the bolts he'd fastened the night before.

"Darn it, Frodo," Sam said, banging into him from behind. "Why didn't we bring a lamp with us at least?"

"Shh," Frodo said, straining his ears in the silence, tilting his head towards the narrow musty tunnel.

"Love," Sam whispered, hand around his waist tenderly. "It was just a dream, love. Fael's far away from here by now, safe with Legolas." He broke off, ears twitching. Someone was coming up the tunnel. "It could be an enemy," he hissed, tugging Frodo away but the other hobbit pulled out of his grasp and leaned over.

"Legolas!" he called softly and in a moment there was an answering call that echoed lowly down the tunnel.

"Frodo?" And then they both heard the blessed sound of their baby crying, his distinctive hungry wails like music to Frodo's ears.

"Fael!" he gasped as Legolas emerged from the tunnel and straightened from his crouch. The baby was still slung across his chest and Frodo wrapped his arms around them both and buried his nose in Fael's soft curls.

"Legolas!" Sam gasped. "What are you doing back here?"

"I'm glad to see you safe, Sam," Legolas said, laying his hand on Frodo's crown. "I'm sorry, my friends, I failed you."

"Let's get out of this darkness," Sam said, and Frodo reluctantly pulled back, his eyes aching to see his baby as well as smell and touch him.

Legolas led the way through the darkness and Frodo stumbled along beside him, hand in hand with Sam. Once in the lamp lit hall they stopped and Legolas crouched and shrugged off the sling. And then Frodo had Fael in his arms once more and he laughed through grateful tears as Fael cried against his shoulder.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

Legolas explained, his face grim and scratched. "There were two of them, tracking me in the wood where I took shelter for the day. I don't know how they found me. Alone I could have fought them," he said, shrugging eloquently. "But you did not send your precious child with me to risk in a fight. In the end all I could do was return him to you. I'm sorry. I failed you."

"No, Legolas," Frodo insisted, finding his voice. "Never. You did as I asked and kept him safe." He laid his cheek on Fael's curls. "I can't regret that he's back with us."

Sam rubbed the baby's back tenderly. "Me either," he confessed. "Though I know I should." He met Frodo's eyes. "We've still the same problem, Frodo. We can't protect him."

But Frodo couldn't feel anything but joy as the warmth of Fael's presence filled him. "Don't worry, Sam, we'll think of something. It's going to be all right."

Sam and Legolas glanced at each other and then stared at him quizzically. "Do you just know that too?" Sam said sceptically.

Frodo smiled. "Yes."

~***~

Frodo kissed his baby's head and handed him to Sam who cuddled him close against a broad shoulder.

"There there, my lad," Sam said tenderly. "Did you miss your daddies then?"

"Missed his bottle more like," Frodo said, wiping at the tears in the corner of his eye as he bustled to find the freshest milk.

Sam chuckled as Fael grew tired and his wails turned to grizzling sobs against his father's neck. "Don't listen to your Frodo-dad. We've missed you, my hinny."

Legolas was standing by the open kitchen window, looking out into the night. "I can only hear Bilbo sleeping in the study," he said thoughtfully. He turned his blue gaze back out into the night, head tilting. "Where are Merry and Pip?"

Sam was cooing in Fael's ear and kissing his damp pink cheek but Frodo was caught by the elf's stillness and paused in his movements. "Legolas?"

"An elf is coming down the road."

Sam froze and Frodo caught his gaze anxiously. "Who?"

Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. But he is alone."

"What do we do?" Sam was standing now and Frodo went to him and stood by his side, shoulder to shoulder.

"They know you're back, Legolas," Frodo said uneasily. "And they've come to take Fael!"

Sam wrapped an arm around his waist for comfort, but Legolas was shaking his head.

"He is alone," the elf pointed out. "Wait here, I will go meet him."

~***~

"It's that Rhasden," Sam reported from the door. "And he is alone."

Frodo lay Fael in his crib and picked up his sword once more. "Do you think the Lady's changed her mind?"

Sam snorted. "Not her. Probably try to bribe us next. Thinks hobbitlings are like puppies, and we just give 'em away!"

"Sam?"

The fair haired hobbit turned from his vigil by the door.

"That vision she showed us..."

Face tightening Sam turned back and gazed out into the night. "Don't think on it," he said gruffly. "It was just elf magic makin' us see that."

"The Lady said she saw visions of the future." Frodo bit his lip. "What if..."

"I said forget it!" Sam said loudly. He gripped the round door frame tightly, his fingers whitening with the strain. "It's our arms Fael will run into, not hers!'

Frodo went to Sam and stood close behind him, touching his shoulder with one hand. "Sorry," he whispered.

Sam covered the hand with his own, fingers gently stroking the maimed finger.

"I'm the one who's sorry," Sam murmured back. "It hit me real hard, love, I don't mind admittin'. But for all she made it convincin' I know it wasn't true, I know it! There was a... wrongness about it. It's what she wants, that's what I reckon. Not what will be."

Frodo thought hard about it, leaning forward against the warmth of his love's back. Then Sam stiffened.

"They're comin'" he whispered harshly. "Legolas is bringing him here!"

The elves stepped through the front gate and stood for a moment side by side, bathed in moonlight. They were of a height and build, these two, their friend's hair a fall of golden silver in the moonlight, their enemy's darker and more ruddy. But their swords were sheathed and they stood easily together, hands loosely by their sides.

Frodo stayed in the doorway, one eye on the events before him, one on Fael now sleeping peacefully in his crib by the study door.

"What are you bringin' him here for?" Sam demanded hotly. "This bugger helped steal me from my own door step last night!"

"You have my apologies for that," Rhasden said humbly, head bowed.

"Oh, I'll forgive you then, shall I?" Sam jeered. "No harm done."

"It is my fervent hope that we can indeed leave this place with no harm done."

Sam jerked a little in surprise at the elf's sincere tones, flicking a glance at Frodo before turning to Legolas.

"What's goin' on, Legolas?"

"Please, let me explain," Rhasden said politely, setting his foot on the first step, but Sam lifted his sword again at the move.

"I don't think so," the hobbit said fiercely. "You're as cracked as your Lady if you think you're setting a step closer to my son."

Face tightening Rhasden nodded curtly and lowered his foot.

"I cannot blame you for your attitude," he said quietly. "You have been treated most unfairly by our clan. But, please, try to understand. We knew nothing of your kind when we came here save tales and legends ages old." He cast a glance past Sam to the handsome little dwelling, the round green door with its intricate carving glowing gently in the moonlight. "We heard you lived in holes in the ground," Rhasden said uncomfortably. "Like rats."

"Well we heard you lived in trees," Sam exclaimed rudely. "Like ruddy squirrels!"

Legolas smiled and nodded his head. "I've always been quite fond of nuts," he admitted.

Despite the peril of the situation Frodo found himself chuckling at his elf friend. Sam only snorted.

"So now you're sayin' your Lady come to rescue our son, did she? Not steal him away like a thief in the night?"

"I'm saying, Master Hobbit that we did not come here for your son at all!" Rhasden said loudly, then subsided, shrugging a little. "We barely knew whose lands we passed through on our way to the Grey Havens."

Frodo frowned a glance at the youthful looking elf. "You're sailing into the West?"

Rhasden nodded. "I have served my Lady all my life," he confessed proudly. "And when her grief drove her to this decision I willingly followed her, as did many in our clan. Since the death of her son..." He broke off.

Frodo spoke for the first time. "That was not of our doing," he said baldly. "Silasigil bought his own end on him. Or do you want to see the scar Sam still bears on his throat? Will bear his life long?"

Rhasden shook his head. "I know this will be difficult for you to understand, but there was no vengeance in our hearts either. Our Lady knew the truth of her son's end. But it did not make his loss any easier to bear. She who has lost so much already..."

Frodo flicked another glance at his sleeping son. His heart had always been torn by the deaths that had occurred in Rivendell that night. He well remembered his terror for Sam and their unborn child. He knew as long as he lived he would never forget those shadows in the night.

That was the scar he bore.

But at the same time he had always regretted the fact that death had been so close while he was carrying the greatest gift he had ever known; that of life.

"Where is your Lady?" he finally asked.

Rhasden closed his eyes briefly. "I do not know."

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

"Please, let me explain," Rhasden begged. "We were on our way through your lands when the Lady had her vision. Try to imagine what it meant to those of us who loved her? Her smile when she spoke of the child of light. Her joyful anticipation of the future with him, when only hours before she saw nothing but darkness and despair in the long forever ahead. When she begged us to help her rescue him..."

"Rescue," Sam sneered. "From us 'rats'?"

Rhasden held his head high. "I apologise again," he said stiffly. "It shames me to admit my people knew so little of yours that we did not even understand that you would value him so. Let alone love him."

Sam was sputtering again but Frodo's voice was clear and direct. "And now you do know?"

"That is why my Lady is gone," Rhasden admitted uncomfortably. "Because it became clear to those of us who served her that this was... wrong. You are not our kind," he said lowly. "But perhaps you are not so very different from us. In the ways that matter."

Sam shook his head in disbelief, and Frodo looked over Rhasden's shoulder to his friend, Legolas, who stood easily by the gate.

"Did you know so little of us, when first we met at Rivendell, old friend?"

"I was a little more well travelled than Rhasden here," Legolas said frankly. "But I was quite surprised that first night when Bilbo started reading his poetry. I didn't know hobbits could read, you see."

Sam was looking amazed but Frodo only nudged his shoulder playfully. "Don't act so scornful now, Sam Gamgee. I might remind you of some thoughts you had on elves before we met them. Aye and men too!"

"And dwarves," Legolas said softly, eyes innocent.

"Harrumph," Sam snorted disdainfully. "That's Sam Traveller if you don't mind."

"Sorry," Frodo murmured and Sam nudged him back.

"P'raps it might do folks good to learn more about other folks," Sam grudgingly admitted. "But what worries me right now is this Lady of yours. What's in her head, now her own clan have turned against her?"

"We have not turned against her!" Rhasden exclaimed, looking horrified. "We only sought to speak reason to her." He trailed away, face miserable. "But alas, I fear there is no reasoning with her grief. She wants your child very much. She sees him as her future, I think."

"And now she's out there," Frodo said fearfully, gazing out into the dark night.

"My people search for her as we speak."

Sam and Frodo exchanged glances and then looked nervously at Legolas. "Um, your people are wanderin' around in the woods?"

Sam?" Legolas asked. "What's wrong?"

"Merry and Pippin are out warning the folks hereabouts about elves come to steal Fael away," Sam reported ruefully.

Legolas glanced down the road, face grave. "I fear we may have bloodshed on our hands before morning."

~***~

Sam's eyes felt gritty and he rubbed them wearily as he pushed the door to their bedroom open. If he didn't manage a few hours kip soon he might just keel right over.

Frodo was fast asleep, curled on his side in his favourite sleeping position. Fael was next to him and Sam smiled to see the infant wide awake, eyes crossing as he explored one hand with the other before his face.

"Be careful," Sam whispered, reaching out to stroke the tangle of impossibly long fingers apart. "The wind might change."

Fael focused on his father's face and blinked thoughtfully. Then he blew some bubbles, drooling down his chin and into the collar of his little gown. This was a sure sign the baby was starting to feel the first pangs of hunger and Sam sighed. Maybe he wouldn't be getting any rest right now.

Frodo snuffled and opened sleepy eyes, then stretched and yawned widely. "What time is it?" he muttered, knuckling one eye.

"Dawn's been and gone," Sam confessed and Frodo sat up, groaning and shielding his eyes from the light streaming in the window.

"Sam!" he exclaimed. "You promised to wake me!"

"If anything happened," Sam reminded him, giving in and sitting on the edge of the bed. He couldn't help his moan as aching feet left the ground. Frodo's frown instantly cleared and he reached out and touched Sam's arm.

"I'm sorry, love," he said contritely. "At least I've had some sleep, which is more than you have."

"I'm fine," Sam dismissed. "And so far everyone else is too. All the hobbits hereabouts who were warned about dangerous elves have been warned that some are our friends, but it made no nevermind anyway. No one's seen sight nor sign of an elf, clever buggers that they are."

"No one sees an elf unless he wants to be seen," Frodo agreed. He stroked Sam's arm tenderly. "Lay back and get some rest, love."

Sam didn't resist the invitation, he stretched out on the bed, sighing blissfully as his spine hit the soft mattress. "I can't sleep," he murmured, eyes already drifting closed. "Fael's nearly ready for his feed."

"I'll feed Fael," Frodo murmured and Sam sighed again as beloved fingers stroked his temples gently. "And when you wake up I'll tell you about a plan I've been hatching."

This was so alarming Sam almost woke up, but the needs of his body over rode the warning bell in his brain and he drifted away.

~***~

Frodo found just the spot he was looking for and settled down in the long soft grass. The June sun was still an hour or so away from setting, and a scented afternoon breeze was rustling in the flowering bushes around him, waving the tall fronds of the grass and shushing gently in the distant trees. It was a perfect afternoon, and Frodo smiled as he imagined Fael's delight in this place.

When this was over he'd bring his son here and lay him in the fragrant grass. What fine times they would have!

"Are you brave or foolish, I wonder?"

The hobbit looked up, unsurprised at the vision of elven loveliness before him.

"You'd be surprised how many times that question has been asked," he said ruefully. "You really would."

The Lady looked around, her keen elf eyes searching the fragrant bushes and the forest beyond the fields.

"You're alone," she stated.

It wasn't a question but Frodo nodded anyway. "I'm not afraid of you," he said serenely. "I never was for myself. And just because your kin have deserted you doesn't mean your honour has. You've vowed not to kill me, remember?"

The Lady shrugged, her eyes hooding. "My kin, as you call them, are still loyal to me. They just lack my vision, that's all. They cannot know the power of what I have seen. They cannot understand that perhaps what seems wrong can ultimately be the right thing to do."

Frodo surveyed her curiously. "Does it seem wrong to you too?" he wondered.

The Lady seemed careful to select her words. "Let us just say that I am not without pity for you," she said finally. "I do believe you care for the child."

"Good of you!" Frodo snorted. "Care for him? I gave birth to him, Lady."

"For your own selfish reason," the Lady said smugly. "You cannot begin to understand what it truly means to be a parent, a mother."

Frodo stared at her. "My son will never have a mother," he said regretfully. "He'll call me father, but I'm not. Sam's his father, of that there's no doubt." He smiled, a little sadly. "There's no word for what I am, Lady, unless you count the ones your son threw at me. Unnatural. Freak. Abomination."

The Lady bowed her head. "My son was ruled by anger and hatred," she said softly.

"He was," Frodo agreed. "And it drove him to great evil. You seem to think because you are driven by love that your evil is somehow lessened."

The Lady looked startled. "You believe I am driven by love?" she said, surprised.

"I do. That vision you showed us." Frodo broke off, swallowing hard. This was harder to remember. "False as it was there was real love in it. Real need for love."

"It was not false!" The Lady denied. She shifted a little, almost as if restless. It was a curious demeanour for an elf and Frodo couldn't help but stare for a moment. She swallowed hard and stilled again. "It was not false," she said again more quietly. "But you are right about the love. I will love and protect the child of light his life long. He will want for nothing, this I swear."

Frodo looked at her. "You still intend to take him then?" he asked. "Even knowing it's wrong, even as your people have abandoned you?"

"Even if all elfkind abandoned me," the Lady said fiercely. "That child is my future, my chance to make up for the past. Did you really believe your words today would sway me?"

Frodo climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. The wind was picking up and the soft susurration through the trees was gentle, almost soothing.

"I hoped it would," he murmured. "But I didn't really believe it, no." He focused over her shoulder for a moment and then looked back at her, feeling an odd sort of pity rise up within him. This fine lady would have stolen everything precious from his life without a second thought but he could still find it within him to feel sorry for her. He nodded behind her.

"That's what they're here for," he said gently.

With a start the Lady turned but her elf companions were already impossibly close, without a pause Frodo turned and walked away, barely feeling a breeze as the rest of her company streamed soft footed past him to surround her.

He didn't turn or look back.

~***~

"You are making me old afore my time!" Sam cried out, snatching him close and holding him tightly against him. Shamelessly enjoying it Frodo just stood on the top step and let himself be held.

"Let him go for a minute, Sam!" Bilbo cried from inside the house. "Come talk to us, Frodo. Did it work?"

"I didn't stay to watch," Frodo admitted and Sam shook his head and snorted.

"Merry and Pip are in the trees," Sam informed them. "Despite orders to stay away. They'll tell us quick enough if owt goes wrong."

Frodo settled himself in his arm chair and puffed out a sigh. "Nothing will," he said confidently. "There's too many of them."

"I still think Merry's idea was better,” Sam said fiercely. "Wait till you lure her in then shoot every arrow in the Shire at her."

"Sam," Frodo chided fondly. "It's too nice a day to talk about bloodshed."

"But Sam may have a point," Bilbo said sharply. "This whole plan depends on her kin keeping a hold of her long enough to talk her out of this."

"I doubt they ever will," Frodo sighed. "She has her heart set on it."

Sam shivered and glanced at Fael, sitting complacently in the curve of Bilbo's arm.

Frodo touched his hand softly. "Don't worry, Sam. Legolas will make sure she can't hurt us again."

"They got her, they got her!" Pippin called as he skittered into the house and slid on the flagstones in the hall. "Not even a struggle in the end, she just stood while they overwhelmed her. Hugging her they were, and holding her close. Never seen elves act like that."

"And where are they now?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Going back to camp." Pippin collapsed on the floor with a theatrical huff, crossing his legs and panting. "Whew, I ran like a dog to get here. Anyway, Merry's following them to make sure."

"And Legolas will stay until it's all sorted." Frodo heaved a sigh. "It feels like it might be over, lads. What do you think?"

"I think I'm starved," Sam pronounced. "It feels like forever since we've sat down together for a good meal."

Pippin looked eager. "Something fried?" he begged pitifully.

Frodo licked his lips at the thought. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

~***~

Merry joined them halfway through the meal and fell to his food as if ravenous. The others held back their impatience until he had chewed a chicken leg and downed a mug full of ale in one swallow.

"Well?" Sam finally demanded.

"Gone," Merry reported thickly, mouth already full again. "Heading West, talking hard all the way. Legolas is going with them to see for himself if the Lady goes with them." He grunted. "And to make sure she's willing. Says she can't be forced to go."

"I could bloody force her!" Sam exclaimed. "Pick her up and chuck her into the bloody sea!"

Merry nodded agreement and Pip punched him enthusiastically on the arm. "And I'd help you!" he added aggressively.

"Will she go d'you think, Frodo?" Bilbo asked anxiously and Frodo could only shrug.

"Well how will we know when it's over?" Bilbo grumbled. "You know, you lads promised me a quiet time back here in the Shire."

"We were rather counting on one ourselves," Frodo pointed out.

"Well I think the question is are there any more Eastferns out there?" Pippin burped discreetly.

"Don't worry, Frodo," Merry said warmly. "Our friends warned us this time, and Gandalf and Legolas and the others will do their best to make sure we're all safe."

"We have a lot of good friends," Sam agreed and then he yawned, wide and long. "I'm still dog tired," he said, wiping sleepy tears from the corners of his eyes. "But this lad here is wide awake of course." Fael was holding his father's hands and pressing pointed toes into his thighs, trying to straighten dimpled legs.

Frodo sharpened his attention. "He looks like he's ready to stand up!"

Sure enough the plump little legs straightened and Fael was standing triumphantly on Sam's thighs, both fists still held tight in his father's strong hands.

"Well done!" Pippin said, tousling his golden curls and Merry cheered and raised a mug.

Fael beamed and bent his knees, bouncing a few times as if showing off his new skill.

"Those are some sharp toes you have there!" Sam exclaimed, but his tan cheeks were flushed with happiness and Frodo smiled joyfully at the sight.

Not so long ago he'd been alone, Fael far away, Sam a captive, the future truly uncertain and frightening before him. And now tonight the soft June moonlight was streaming in through the kitchen window, illuminating the faces of those he loved, gathered all around him.

The light worked to banish the shadows once more.

~***~

"And they are truly gone?" Frodo asked for the dozenth time and Legolas laughed and answered him patiently.

"Yes, Frodo, they are gone. The Lady sailed away with her kin, in hope her heart would know ease at last."

"And there are very few left of their clan now," Gandalf declared. "And none who are a danger to your family that I can see."

Frodo smiled at him joyfully and pushed the plate of cakes his way. "You've set our minds at rest. Thank you both for coming." A cleared throat to his right caught his attention and he bestowed a smile on another friend as well. "And you too, Gimli."

"I'd have been more help if the young princeling here hadn't dropped me off in the middle of nowhere to walk the rest of the way," he grumbled. He peered into Fael's eyes where he was standing clutching at his knee and nodded forcefully. "That's right isn't it, my little hobbitling?"

The baby squeezed fistfuls of chain mail and bobbed up and down by Gimli where he sat cross legged on the grass.

"Even the baby agrees with me."

Sam poured more tea and handed around the mugs. "We must write and thank Nestadren for sending out the warning that they were comin'. Hard to believe it was all that vision of hers to blame."

"I feel better knowing it was elves who helped us in the end," Frodo said thankfully. "They've been such good friends to us in the past, it's a comfort to know their basic goodness won through, even over loyalty to their own Lady."

"We'd have managed anyway," Sam said stoutly. "We could have fought them off, I've no doubt."

"Here here!" Merry cheered. "We weren't going to make it easy for them to just stroll in here and steal our little Fael away."

Fael looked up with a grin at his name, and Frodo passed over a cloth so that Gimli could wipe the endless drool off the little pointed chin.

"Shire folk have proved their courage before," Gandalf agreed, wiping crumbs from his fingers. "I've no doubt they'd have proved it again if pressed." He took a deep breath of the warm summer air and smiled. "I heard a few stories circulating on my way here about this recent trouble. It seems it's already turning into legend."

"Legend?" Sam asked curiously. "Maybe Frodo should write it all down? What are they saying?"

"I fear elfkind is getting the worst of it," Gandalf confessed. "Wicked elf queens who steal babies from their cradles and the like."

"Oh dear," Frodo said in dismay. "That's not really very fair."

"It'll die down." Sam predicted.

"Perhaps," Gandalf conceded. "Although the origins of one seem most peculiar to me. Apparently there's a rumour that if you leave a saucer of milk for the elves they'll leave you a silver ring!"

Legolas looked up from the leaf he was twirling in his fingers and studied all the faces turned towards him. He smiled and settled his shoulders more comfortably against the tree he was leaning on.

"I predict some fat cats in the Shire," he said contentedly and he smiled again and gazed dreamily up at the blue sky through the lacy leaves above him as happy laughter rang around the garden under the summer sun.


	7. Canoodling

July 1421 S.R

"You're beautiful," Frodo whispered, stroking a smooth perfect cheek. He couldn't resist planting a tender kiss there, smiling as she blinked wide blue eyes up at him. "Dear Lavender."

From Sam's arms Fael reached out little arms to Frodo and his father chuckled and kissed a smooth cheek. "Jealous lad," he chided. "That's your cousin, that is."

Fael didn't seem impressed, he waved his arms, plump little face screwing up as his Frodo-dad didn't instantly pick him up.

"Come to your Auntie," May said, reaching out to her nephew. There were weary lines by her eyes but her skin was glowing and her eyes were filled with joy.

"He's heavy," Sam warned, handing him over.

"He's perfect, aren't you Fael?"

The six month old lay his head on her breast and gazed up, blowing a bubble of drool at her fondly.

"Look at the difference in the size of them," Frodo marvelled. "And Fael was smaller than this when he was born!"

"They grow fast all right," Sam agreed, reaching out and letting his new niece wrap her hand around his fingers.

"And the midwife said everything's fine?" Frodo asked anxiously, and for the third time.

May chuckled and kissed Fael's little pink nose. "It all went without a hitch," she repeated patiently. "Honestly, Frodo, you're worse than Rory!"

Her husband joined her laughter from his seat by the bed, sitting back and looking as smug as a new father should. May cast him a fond look and he shrugged, a little sheepishly. "You should have seen me at the time," he admitted. "I about wore a hole in the hall carpet with my pacing!"

Fael began to fret again and Sam lifted him from his aunt's arms. "Time we left you two alone for a while," Sam said and Frodo regretfully kissed Lavender's wrinkled little brow and laid her tenderly in her mother's arms.

"Congratulations, May, Rory," he said softly.

"May did all the work!" Rory exclaimed. "I had the easy part!"

Sam snickered and Frodo covered a chuckle with his hand. The young father's face flushed.

"Hush up, you pair," he chided. "You now what I mean." He rolled his eyes expressively. "If lads had to have babies there wouldn't be any folk in the world, I'm thinking."

And then he looked nonplussed as Frodo and Sam laughed even harder.

~***~

Sam carried their empty basket and Frodo cradled Fael against his chest, strapped firmly in his sling. The baby kicked his legs strongly and twisted around, craning his neck to see as much as he could.

"I think we need a new carrier," Frodo panted, trying to still the wriggling child. "Fael's sitting quite well and he wants to be able to see."

"I'm glad the birth went all right," Sam said gratefully. "May and Rory will make wonderful parents."

Frodo fanned himself. "I just wish she'd chosen a cooler time of the year! And carrying about this hot water bottle of a lad doesn't help!"

"Let's find some shade and sit," Sam suggested. "There's a nice patch just ahead, over the high verge. It's quiet and peaceful there."

They found the spot on the road he meant and struggled over the grassy verge, skipping down the other side into the shade of a large weeping willow. A bit further from water than a willow liked this one was old and gnarled, it's fronds rustling dryly in the small afternoon breeze.

Frodo collapsed with a sigh and unbuckled Fael, lifting him gratefully onto his lap. He blew a few loose curls out of his eyes and relaxed.

"I'm so unfit!" he exclaimed.

Sam tossed the basket down and sat next to him, crossing his legs and leaning back on one arm. "You look all right to me," he said flirtatiously and Frodo raised one brow at him.

"You can get that idea out of your head right now, Sam Traveller," he said firmly.

"What idea?" Sam made his best innocent face.

With a smirk Frodo leaned back next to him, lifting one hand to slowly unbutton the top of his shirt. Sam's eyes flew to the spot and Frodo laughed out loud. "That idea!" he pounced and Sam wrinkled his nose.

"Aye, you caught me there," he said shamelessly. "But it was only a spot of canoodlin' I had in mind, Frodo me love."

"I should hope so! What else could we get up to just a few feet from the road in broad daylight with our baby on my lap?"

"And a right fair picture you make too," Sam said huskily, leaning forward and lifting his hand to stroke a touch on Frodo's knee. "The sun shining on your hair, the sky reflectin' in your eyes..."

Frodo gazed back into Sam's eyes and sighed, temptation on his face. "Well..."

Sam leaned forward just a mite, then quick as a flash he'd pressed a teasing finger to Frodo's pert nose. "Got you!" he crowed.

"You beast!" Frodo accused. "If I didn't have this baby on my lap..."

"What, this sleepy lad?" Sam said slyly, plucking Fael up and laying him in the cool grass. "He wants to look up at the sky for a while, don't you, Fael?"

Fael kicked his legs, not looking at all sure he liked this idea.

"Look up at the clouds, my hinny?" Sam crooned and Fael followed his father's voice, blinking great blue eyes.

"You might as well give up now," Frodo teased. "He's far from being sleepy yet. Not with so many more interesting goings on."

Sam raised one cheeky brow. "More interestin', hey?" Then he pounced, literally, bearing Frodo back into the summer warm grass, drawing an oof of surprise from him.

"Sam you loon!" Frodo panted, his struggles turning to wriggles as knowing hands made their way under his shirt. "I wasn't joking about - stop that!"

Sam stole a kiss and closed his mouth for a few seconds, but the minute it was free Frodo began anew.

"I'm serious," he panted, throwing his head back and giving Sam access to his vulnerable throat. "We're too close to the - oh, yes, just there, hmmm."

"Too close to something," Sam chuckled, lifting his head for another kiss, his laughter fading as Frodo's hands wrapped around his back in that way that made him feel so big and strong, and Frodo's lips yielded under his in that way that made him want to howl to the moon.

"A little canoodling?" Frodo whispered breathlessly as Sam lifted his head and gazed down at him. "That's all, right?"

Sam spared a glance at Fael who was now industriously immersed in trying to suck his own big toe.

"Very very little," Sam promised huskily, head lowering again.

"Yuck!" A small voice pronounced. "Two lads kissin'!"

Sam groaned and didn't fight as Frodo shoved him off onto the ground.

"Bluebell," he said resignedly.

"I saw you two kissin'," Bluebell said in a sing-song voice. "And I'm gonna tell me mam!"

"You just do that,' Sam invited. "In fact go do it right now."

Blue looked crestfallen. "Don't you care if I tell mam on you?"

"Not a jot or whittle," Sam said in exasperation while Frodo struggled to contain his laughter next to him.

"Pftt," Blue puffed. "I shan't bother then. Can I play with Fael?" And ruffled bloomers flashing she climbed the embankment and slithered down the side.

Giving up his dreams of canoodling for the moment Sam steadied her as she reached them at the bottom and automatically straightened her little mob cap. "You have a new little cousin just down the road," he said resignedly. "Why don't you go play with her?"

"New babies are dull," Blue pronounced with the world weary cynicism of an older sister. "Fael can smile and play pat-a-cake with me. And he knows my name."

"Boo!" Fael squealed in delight and Blue grinned widely, showing off the gap in her front teeth.

"See?"

"Fine then," Sam sighed, only a little mollified when Frodo leaned back against him and let Sam wrap his arms around him.

"Are you out here alone?" Frodo asked, craning a look at the verge.

"Mam's comin' with the littluns," Blue said airily, sitting Fael up and holding his pudgy hands. "Pat-a-cake, Fael! Clap hands!"

Fael drooled a smile and let Blue clap his hands together, nodding his curly golden head happily as she sang.

Frodo was wriggling back into his lap teasingly and Sam groaned, nibbling his tempting neck.

"Serves you right for getting us all worked up in broad daylight," Frodo whispered.

"Glad to hear I'm not the only one worked up," Sam whispered back, hands managing to slip under Frodo's shirt again and set him wriggling in a whole new way.

"There you are."

Sam jumped in surprise then dropped his head in resignation as Daisy's head appeared over the verge like a ruddy brown sun rising in the east.

"Bluebell Green, you're supposed to be holding your brother's hands!" Daisy chided as she hefted herself over the embankment and clambered down, Holly in her arms and her other four sliding down around her with various shoves and wails.

"Mam! Little Eddy pushed me!"

"Well Winnie poked her tongue out at me!"

"I'll clap both your heads together if you don't behave," Daisy warned amiably, settling herself on the grass with a puff. "Oh, what a day! If that grass gets any drier it'll snap in half." She cast an appraising eye over Sam and Frodo, still pressed back to front. "Been canoodlin'?"

Frodo dissolved into laughter and Sam rolled his eyes, reflecting how difficult it was to be romantic surrounded by bickering children and a sharp eyed sister. He was only grateful they'd visited Rivendell to find Frodo's cure, if they'd had to stay home the poor lad likely wouldn't have got himself conceived at all.

"We were resting actually," he said with dignity.

Daisy snorted. "T'was restin' like that what got me this fine half dozen," she smirked and Frodo completely lost it, rolling sideways in the grass holding his belly and roaring with laughter. Winnie and Little Eddy yelled and jumped on top of him and he was forced to defend himself against their tickling assault, still laughing weakly.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any more love for his other half, Sam thought, smiling tenderly at the sight. There was his fine Frodo; lips kiss-swollen, hair full of grass, wriggling and giggling with an armful of hobbitlings. He was beautiful.

"Sam, help me!" he finally appealed breathlessly and Sam relented, pulling his niece and nephew off and wrapping a strong arm around each of them.

"You pair leave off assaultin’ your uncle," he lectured, blowing raspberry kisses on grubby little necks. "I hope you're more gentle with your new cousin!"

"Auntie May had a baby," Winnie lisped and Little Eddy made a face.

"A lass," he moaned.

"Nothing wrong with lasses, my lad," his mother lectured. She cast an arch look at Sam and Frodo. "Though some seem to manage just fine without us!"

Sam rolled his eyes again.

"Come on then, my ducks," Daisy said briskly, standing and brushing her apron down firmly. "Let's go call on your aunt and see this new babby."

"We made presents," Blue said proudly, flashing her gap toothed smile again.

"You help your brothers and sister up," he mother warned and with a long suffering sigh Blue kissed Fael's head and jumped up.

Once over the verge Daisy popped her head up again and winked at the pair of them. "You pop by to see me tomorrow," she smirked. "I'll tell you a sight better spots for what you had in mind than this'un."

"You mind your business, Daisy Green!" Sam called after her as she disappeared with an evil chuckle.

Deprived of his playmates Fael was inclined to grizzle, still chuckling Frodo lifted him and cradled him close, kissing his sun flushed cheeks with smacking pecks that made him smile again.

"Just once I'd like to get the last word with her," Sam groused, but he couldn't hold onto his sour mood, Frodo still had grass in his hair and his eyes were reflecting the endless blue of the sky. With a sly move Sam leaned over to tweak a stalk from his silky curl and managed to sidle over in the process.

Frodo cast him a teasing glance. "You know she's probably waiting just over the verge to spring on us again."

"Don't worry, I learned my lesson about daylight canoodlin'," Sam murmured. "At least so close to the road," he quickly amended.

"What are you doing then?"

Now Sam was curled close all down one side, inhaling Frodo's clean sweet scent, feeling his warmth through the layers of good serviceable cloth between them.

"Have I told you I love you today?"

Frodo's teasing smile blossomed like the sun.

"Love you too," he murmured.

Sam leaned forward ever so slowly and pressed one soft kiss to tempting half parted lips, sighing his pleasure. "Sometimes waitin' can make the treat sweeter."

Eyes narrowed with pleasure Frodo huffed a soft laugh. "If this gets any sweeter it might just finish me off."

Chuckling smugly Sam flopped back into the grass. "Wouldn't want that on my conscience."

Frodo kissed one of Fael's wavering little hands and snuggled him close before laying back, curling into Sam's side. Now they lay back and gazed up at the sky through the rustling fronds of the willow, tracing the paths of little high up clouds that drifted lazily across the blue expanse.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?" Sam had plucked a grass stalk and was chewing the fat end dreamily.

"Have you ever thought about us having more babies?"

With a start Sam bit off the bitter end of grass and almost choked on it. Sputtering and coughing he sat up. "Don't spring a question like that on a fellow unawares," he gasped.

Frodo was patting him on the back, with rueful apology. "It was just an idle question!"

"What do you want for dinner is an idle question," Sam shot back. He huffed out a breath and relaxed back a bit. "Where did that come from anyway? We've had our spell, love, and got our baby from it." A sudden thought occurred to him and he raised his brows nervously. "That spell was just for the one time, wasn't it?"

Frodo shouted a laugh. "Now you think of that? After all this time?"

"Never occurred to me afore," Sam, defended. "But it was, wasn't it?"

"It was," Frodo confirmed. "And just as well it was or you might have put me in the family way again last night. And last week, and at harvest home, and-"

"All right, all right," Sam interrupted, pink cheeked.

Frodo sobered a little. "Would it have been such a bad thing though?" he said, a trifle wistfully it seemed.

Sam wrapped an arm around him, his free hand coming up to cradle Fael's curly little head. "Oh love," he sighed. "I can't lie and say I wouldn't like another one like our lad here. Someday."

Frodo sighed too, a little sadly now.

"But how much luck can two fellows ask for anyway? We've got it all now, haven't we?"

"We do," Frodo agreed firmly. "Anyway, there isn't another like our Fael, is there, my lad?"

Fael grinned, showing off his pink gums.

Despite Frodo's bright tone Sam could feel the soft sorrow in him, and he hugged him a little closer and rested their heads together for long minutes in comfort.

Finally Sam pulled away with a little sniff and sought to lighten the mood, which is a hobbit's way. "Not that I could stand to see you go through that birthin' again," he said decisively. "I swore it then and I swear it now."

Frodo followed his lead and raised a teasing brow. "What makes you think it would be me pregnant this time?" he said archly and Sam blinked in surprise.

"What?"

Leaning back a little Frodo ran an appraising eye over him until Sam positively squirmed. "Hmm, yes," the blue eyed hobbit said mischievously. "Your turn to get all round and full I think."

Sam recovered from his shock and teased back. "Ah, the sun's addled your poor wits, my hinny," he said pityingly. "You'd find it hard to sow the seed when I'm the one who does all the plantin'."

"So far," Frodo said complacently, heaving himself to his feet and shaking the grass off himself and Fael.

This time Sam was struck dumb.

Frodo sat Fael on his hip and looked around loftily. "You coming?"

Sam scrambled to his feet. "Wait a minute," he said hoarsely. "Are you sayin' you want to..."

"Sow the seed?" Frodo said smoothly.

Sam could only nod.

"Maybe."

"Oh." Sam considered this, feeling Frodo's eyes on him. It had been so long since he'd offered, he'd thought Frodo just wasn't interested in that, and now it seemed he was. Sam shot him a half shy look and saw the trace of anxiety in his love's gaze. Was Frodo worried about his answer? Sam made up his mind.

"All right then."

Frodo huffed out a breath he'd been holding. "Really?"

"If - if that's what you want," Sam said timidly.

"Only if it's what you want, Sam." Frodo wasn't teasing now, his eyes were earnestly worried.

"You do want it then?"

Frodo traced a tiny shrug. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I've only thought of it once or twice since we've been home."

Sam took a step closer. "But you have thought of it?"

"Once or twice." Frodo seemed breathless now. "You?"

"Now and then," Sam allowed.

"Do you really want to then?"

Sam turned it over in his mind. Did he really want to? He hadn't even known he wanted to kiss Frodo that first time until he did, hadn't known how good being close to him would feel. Could never in his wildest dreams have imagined how wonderful being inside him would be.

Having Frodo inside of him?

"Yes," he said, all of a sudden. "I want to."

Frodo gave him a soft half smile, managing to convey love and desire and fear and nervousness all at once. "I... I'm glad."

"Me too."

"Um, tonight?"

Sam reached out and took his hand and they stood in the shade like that, hands linked, Fael nodding sleepily between them.

"If you can wait that long," he teased gently.

"Well, like you said," Frodo teased gently back. "Sometimes waiting can make the treat sweeter."


	8. Fever

July 1421 S.R

Sam felt as if his mind was all over the place on the slow walk home. He'd volunteered to carry Fael for the rest of the way home and he busied himself with keeping the active baby occupied. Every now and then he felt Frodo's glance on him but he gamely ignored it and tickled Fael's toes to make him giggle.

It wasn't so easy to avoid those knowing blue eyes once they were home. Sam tried to settle Fael in his cot for a nap while Frodo put the kettle on.

"I might get in a spot of hoeing before dark," Sam said casually as he tried to coax the bottle's teat between the baby's lips. Fael turned his face away fretfully.

"I'll join you once he's settled down," Frodo offered. Fael began to wail and Frodo frowned and laid down the tea pot. "What happened to his sunny mood?"

"Maybe he's over tired," Sam said guiltily. "I did stir him up a bit on the way home." He shot a glance at Frodo again and felt himself flushing. There was a knowing gleam in his love's eyes that made Sam squirm.

"Did da wear you out then?" Frodo crooned, bending over the cot and stroking damp curls from Fael's brow. Then he frowned and laid his palm over the baby's forehead.

"Does he feel warm to you?" Frodo said worriedly, lifting Fael out of the cot and cradling him close.

Sam cupped a work worn hand around Fael's pink curved cheek, instantly feeling a too hot flush of fever.

"That come on sudden!" he exclaimed, and there was that guilt again. He'd been so worried about Frodo's plan for the night he hadn't been paying enough attention to Fael.

Frodo touched his lips to Fael's brow and slipped one hand under his soft little shirt to feel his back.

"Poor little baby," Frodo crooned, kissing fretful tears from flushed cheeks. "Are you feeling poorly then?" The worried gaze he turned on Sam belied his gentle words. "It's getting worse."

Sam met his worried gaze with his own, reaching an arm around his shoulder and feeling Frodo lean against him.

"Maybe I should race 'round to Daisy's?" he suggested.

Fael began grizzling in earnest now, leaning miserably against Frodo's shoulder, red flags on his cheeks. He had one hand in his mouth and was gnawing at his fingers, drooling down his chin and onto his bib.

"Hold on," Frodo said suddenly. Gently tugging the baby's hand away he slipped his own fingers into Fael's mouth and felt around carefully.

"Oh, that explains it!" he exclaimed in relief. "Poor Fael!" He kissed the baby's head again and turned a relieved face to Sam. "It's his teeth,' he explained with a smile. "I remember now that Daisy warned us he could run a fever when they started coming in."

Sam recalled the conversation and sighed in relief. "So she did."

They fussed over the baby for a while, Frodo pressing kisses to his flushed cheeks while Sam carefully stroked his own work rough finger over hot hard gums. Carefully Sam pried a pouting little lip down, exposing the red and swollen gums.

"That does look painful, poor little mite."

Fael's miserable little face was more red than pink now and his head still drooped against his father's breast.

"Perhaps I can still take a walk over to our Daisy's?" Sam suggested, wondering if Frodo would think he was fussing too much. But the look Frodo turned to him was grateful.

"Oh, would you, Sam?" He patted Fael's back and cuddled him close. "I'm sure it's just his teeth but all the same I'd feel better if Daisy took a look at him."

"I'll set up his bath with some cool water before I go," Sam said briskly, jumping to his feet. "Then I'll pop over there. Set both our minds at rest."

Sam left Frodo wiping Fael's flushed face with a cool damp flannel and set out for Daisy's. His quick walk turned to a run once he was out of sight of Bag End and he was puffed and panting by the time he reached Daisy and Eddy's back door.

Daisy was at the line unpegging clothes and handing them to Bluebell who was laying them neatly in a woven basket.

"Sam!" Blue called when Sam stepped through the gate. Daisy looked up, a peg in her mouth.

"Wha's up?" she mumbled. Catching sight of his anxious face she spat the wooden peg out and stepped closer. "Sam?"

"Fael's got a fever," Sam gasped.

Daisy's face grew alarmed and Sam held a hand up, still catching his breath. "He has some teeth sproutin'," he managed. "It's probably that."

"All the same," Daisy said briskly, bending for the basket of wash. "A fever's nothing to ignore. Blue, run for my medicine basket while I put this wash inside."

Sam took the washing from her arms and she smiled at him.

"Taa, love. I'll just call for Eddy to watch the little'uns and I'll come with you."

"You don't have to come all the way to Bag End," Sam assured her, more alarmed by her reaction to his news than he had been when he arrived. He'd expected her to mock his concerns and dispense a little advice.

Blue emerged with a lidded basket over her arm and Daisy took it from her and lifted one side, rifling through the contents. She nodded thoughtfully and then looked up and caught Sam's eye.

"It's just his teeth comin' in, isn't it, Daisy?" he said anxiously.

Daisy's distracted frown faded and she patted his arm reassuringly. "It probably is. But we'll know for sure when we get there."

Sam tried to take reassurance from her firm tone, but he couldn't help worrying about Fael and poor Frodo left alone to cope.

Daisy finally seemed satisfied with the contents of her basket and she hurried over to the gate. "Well, let's go then. My runnin' days are over so we'd best hurry."

"Can I come, mum?" Bluebell called after them but Daisy waved her back. "Take care of the little'uns," she ordered and Blue hung over the gate, arms and legs flapping.

Sam spared her a backwards wave and then they were hurrying down the lane towards home.

~***~

Frodo greeted them at the door, Fael still in his arms, wailing his misery to the world. Frodo's eyes were drawn with worry and alarm.

"Daisy!" he cried in relief. "I don't know what to do! He won't stop crying!"

"Neither would you if you felt as he does," Daisy said, lifting the fretting baby from his father's arms.

Frodo caught Sam's elbow and squeezed it as they followed Daisy into the kitchen. She made to lay Fael on the table and Frodo hurriedly placed a dry towel on the wood to cushion his head.

"Let's take a look see first," Daisy said briskly over the baby's cries. She unbuttoned his soft shirt and spread it wide, running her hands over Fael's little round belly and chest.

Frodo was still by his side and Sam reached out his hand and clutched at his fingers, feeling the desperate grasp returned. They stood silently as Daisy unfastened the baby's nappy and examined him closely.

"Whew," Daisy breathed a sigh of relief and shot them a smile. Her practised fingers refastened the small garments. "No rash," she reported. "And that was my biggest worry. I've heard of a case of the scarlet fever over in Bree."

"But he's all right?" Sam said anxiously, feeling Frodo's fingers clutch tighter.

"Rash before fever," Daisy quoted. "No rash is the best sign there is."

Fael was was still crying weakly and she carefully probed his open mouth, pulling down his lip and touching his sore gums. Fael protested for a moment, then stopped crying and frowned in concentration as he gummed her knuckle industriously.

"Poor lad," she said gently, letting him gnaw. "He's got two coming at once and he's taking it hard."

Frodo breathed a sigh of relief and leaned his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Thank you so much, Daisy," he breathed.

The experienced mother smiled and winked. "How many times have I told you to come for me when you need advice? You hardly need thank me for that. No, all you need do now is get this lad's fever down and see him through the worst." Still letting the baby nurse on her knuckle she picked Fael up and cradled him against her breast.

Sam cupped the baby's cheek and stroked him gently. "I'm sure you're full of advice as to how," he smiled gratefully and Daisy's eyes twinkled.

"Of course!"

~***~

Following his sister's advice to the letter Sam carefully bathed the baby in the lukewarm bath while Frodo stroked the wash cloth over his cooling skin.

"I hope he doesn't suffer like this with every tooth," Frodo said worriedly but Daisy smiled.

"It's amazing what a baby gets used to. It'll get easier, you'll see." She dried her hands briskly and straightened her cap. "Time I was back to my own babbies. Does Eddy good to tend to 'em without me now and then, but not for too long, if you take my meanin'."

Frodo laid down the flannel and turned to his sister-in-law, taking her by the shoulders and kissing her hard on the cheek. "Thank goodness we have you to turn to, Daisy. You're a treasure."

Sam chuckled under his breath to see the flush on Daisy's tan cheeks. She actually appeared speechless for a moment, and then she was waving him away.

"Get away with you," she cautioned, shaking her head and heading for the door.

But her cheeks were still just a touch red.

At the door she turned and Sam could see in a moment that her composure was firmly back in place. "I'm beginning to see, Sam-my-lad, why you've made some of the choices you have." She dropped them a deliberate wink, then disappeared out the door.

Sam and Frodo chuckled and Sam shook his head. "Figures she'd get one parting shot in before leavin'."

"Well, she earned one," Frodo allowed, and they laughed together again.

~***~

Fael's fever cooled but his emerging teeth still seemed to pain him terribly, he grizzled when held and wailed when laid down. In the end they took turns walking the floor with him, letting him gum a cool slice of apple or on their fingers. It was even a struggle getting him to take his bottle.

Now and then he dozed, but it was fitful and darkness fell and the night was well advanced before he finally fell into a deeper slumber. It was Sam who was holding him when he began his gentle snore, and its echo came from his shoulder, where Frodo's dozing head lay.

Sam smiled gently, looking lovingly down into his son's sleeping face, then glancing at his shoulder where Frodo snuffled a little in his sleep, drooling a little on Sam's second best coat. Sam laughed quietly to himself. Had he really wasted an afternoon worrying about Frodo's sudden proposal? Had he really been so nervous about it?

He studied his beloved's sleeping face, hair drooping over his creased brow, mouth slack, soft snores rumbling, and Sam chuckled again. It was easy to love eyes as blue as forget-me-nots. It was easy to love a wide handsome smile and fresh glowing face. The true test of love came at midnight, when you were both tired and strained and a little the worse for wear. When love still burned so powerfully in your heart at such times, then you knew you had a fire that would stand the test of time.

How silly his nervous little worries seemed next to that!

~***~

Frodo eventually woke and they stumbled to bed, laying Fael between them and grateful that he only sobbed a little in his sleep before settling back down. It was morning before they knew it and Fael was wailing again.

"Fael needs feeding," Frodo mumbled, turning his face into the pillow and away from the light. "It's your turn."

Sam groaned and winced as he tried to lift his head. "S'not my turn," he muttered. "S'your turn."

"Well it better be somebody's turn," Bilbo grumbled from the door. "I won't complain about no sleep when he's ill, but that's his hungry wail if I'm not mistaken."

Frodo came awake suddenly and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It is to," he agreed. He laid a hand on Fael's brow and stroked the touch down to his pointed chin. "How are you feeling, my sunshine? How's that nasty tooth?"

Sam rolled over and blinked sleepily as Frodo carefully probed drooling lips.

"Ouch!" Frodo exclaimed. "That's sharp!" He tugged the bottom lip down, exposing two pearly white teeth emerging from pink gums. "Look, Sam! Two at once!"

"Just as Daisy said," Sam grumbled half heartedly.

Frodo picked Fael up and rocked him, soothing his hungry wails. "What a clever boy," he admired, looking down lovingly into wide wet eyes. "Aren't you, Fael? A very clever boy."

"And a hungry one," Bilbo reminded them. "Like his Great Uncle. I'll put the kettle on."

Sam drew the covers down as the old hobbit shuffled down the hall. "Better get his bottle," he said resignedly but Frodo stopped him with a touch on his arm.

"You all right, love?"

"I'm fine," Sam said. "You?"

"I wouldn't want too many nights like that one," Frodo said feelingly. "But we survived." He chucked Fael's chin, smiling as the baby sought his finger like a teat. "We all did."

"Wasn't quite the night you had planned," Sam reminded him and Frodo wrinkled his nose.

"I shouldn't have teased you so about that," he said remorsefully. "I couldn't help it though. Your face when I said you should be pregnant next time!"

Sam snickered, drawing his knees up under the covers and wrapping his arms around them. "I'd have managed it if it had come to that," he said stoutly. "Might have been easier carryin' myself than watching you go through it."

Frodo nudged him fondly. "Easy to say when you'll never have to carry a baby yourself."

"It wasn't your joke about getting pregnant that had me shaking in my boots yesterday," Sam confessed. "I was as nervous as can be just wonderin' what it would be like, you know." He cast a glance at the open door. "Being underneath you."

Frodo flushed gently but nodded to show he understood.

"Then last night I started thinkin' about what it must have been like for you, back at Rivendell. Facin' not just laying with me but getting a baby out of it. Least I don't have to worry about that!"

"Not unless you've been seeing Nestadren behind my back and casting moon magic with him," Frodo teased. "But see here, Sam, me taking a different role in bed isn't something for you to be worried about. I was just joking when I pushed it yesterday, you know? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"Then you don't want me that way?" Sam asked, feeling a little crestfallen.

"Yes, I do!" Frodo assured him quickly, then blushed a little more when Sam's brow rose a little in surprised pleasure at the urgent tone. "Well, I do," he confessed more quietly. "But I shouldn't have teased because, well... I'm as nervous as you are, I suppose."

Sam frowned curiously. "You are?"

Frodo nodded. "Wasn't it as nerve wracking for you? The first time?"

Sam thought back to those distant days, finding it a little difficult to recall what it had been like not to be so intimately connected to Frodo. Not to have the freedom to reach out and touch him, to ask for a kiss or to give one. "I was frightened," he recalled at last. "Of hurtin' you, or doing something you don't like. But you don't have to be worried about that, Frodo."

Frodo tilted his head. "I don't?"

"Well," Sam said, feeling it was obvious. "That was all before we was lovers like. Now we both know that's there's nothin' you and I could do together in our bed that was wrong or strange. And we couldn't hurt each other," he finished confidently. "We just couldn't."

Frodo studied him for a moment, his eyes wide and surprised. Then realisation dawned in them and he nodded. "Of course we couldn't," he said gently.

"So," Sam began, feeling shy. "So I'm not nervous any more, you know? Um, so maybe, tonight?"

"Maybe," Frodo said gently. "When the time feels right for both of us, yes? Because if we're remembering the past I recall how when it came down to spells and moon magic you and I couldn't find our way. But when it came down to love, pure and simple..."

And the memory came back clearly to Sam now, seeing it reflected in Frodo's eyes. Of course, it had always been pure and simple for them.

Sam really wanted to reach for a kiss but Fael decided he'd been patient long enough and began to wail his hungry displeasure once more.

"Our master calls," Frodo said, climbing from the bed.

"Aye, and the sun is shinin' and Bilbo is makin' the tea." Sam climbed out of bed and stretched his stiff muscles. Frodo hurried by him and Sam caught him by the arm and delivered his kiss, just as if the baby wasn't wailing between them.

And Frodo accepted it and returned it, smiling sweetly.

And then they went to breakfast.


	9. An Early Night

August 1421 S.R

"I have a bath drawn, Sam," Frodo called from the bathroom.

"Oh, taa," Sam called gratefully, unbuttoning his sweaty work shirt as he walked down the hall. It had been a long hot afternoon in the garden and the new orchard, and Frodo had carried Fael inside an hour before to check on Bilbo and get dinner started. Shirt gaping and hands already looping braces off his shoulders Sam entered the bathroom and stopped short. Frodo was wrapped in a towel bending over the dresser and unfastening Fael's nappy.

"I thought we'd all bathe together to save time," he said, lifting the baby up and patting his dimpled bottom. "Hop in and I'll hand him to you?"

They'd both taken Fael into the bath with them before, but never all three together and Sam considered it for a moment while he automatically unbuttoned his breeches. The bath was plenty big enough he supposed.

"All right," he agreed, kicking his clothes aside and stepping into the tub. The water was just the right heat and he relaxed back into it with a pleasurable sigh, feeling the aches in his over used muscles throb and stretch.

"Don't go to sleep yet," Frodo warned and Sam opened his eyes and lifted his hands for Fael.

"Small chance of that," Sam retorted, holding the sturdy baby under his arms and lowering him gently into the water to rest on his father's knee. Fael squealed and wriggled his pleasure.

"Are you too tired?" Frodo said anxiously, climbing in opposite and spreading his legs on either side of Sam. It was a cosy fit and Sam suddenly became aware of a wet naked Frodo sitting pressed opposite him. He just as quickly dismissed those thoughts as Fael wriggled and giggled his pleasure.

"I saw that," Frodo teased, picking the soap out of the dish and wetting the flannel.

"Proves I'm not too tired," Sam shot back comfortably and Frodo chuckled. "This was a good idea, love. Let's try it again another time when it's just the two of us, hmm?"

Frodo pinkened, then hid his blush under the wet soapy flannel. "I'll wash first, then hold the baby while you wash."

"Hold the baby?" Sam said into Fael's wide delighted eyes. "How about I play with the baby, hey? How's that sound, my sunshine?"

Fael splashed the water with both hands, sputtering in surprise as he soaked himself. His fathers laughed and after a moment he did too, gurgling and splashing again.

"Ack, it's a sea monster!" Sam exclaimed, steadying Fael on his knees with one hand and using the other to scoop some water up. "Take that!" he said, tossing the handful on the baby's shoulders. "And that!"

Fael splashed back and soon there was an inch of water on the tile floor and Sam's honey curls were dripping wet.

"Don't get him too excited," Frodo warned, deftly applying the flannel and soap to himself. "I've fed him already and was hoping to put him down with his bottle after the bath."

"An early night?" Sam said, cuddling the slippery baby to his broad chest and shaking dripping curls on his face. Fael squealed and tried to grab his father's hair but Sam eluded him and started blowing raspberry kisses on his cheeks and round tummy.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo chided. "Hand him here and wash yourself." He accepted the baby and sat him on one knee. "I said I want him calm, not over excited."

"We were just playing," Sam said reasonably, grabbing a flannel and soap and getting to work. Meanwhile Frodo began to wash Fael with his flannel, smoothing the warm water over him in calming strokes. "This is fine, isn't it?' Sam said happily. "We should do this more often."

For some reason Frodo pinkened again and wouldn't meet Sam's curious eye. The hobbit just dismissed it and finished his wash.

~***~

"Rabbit stew?" Sam said, sniffing pleasurably as he sat down to table. "My favourite!"

"Tom bought a brace around yesterday, I hid them for a surprise. Here." He handed Sam Fael's bottle and busied himself at the stove. Sam took the glass bottle, not even having to coax Fael as the baby's plump little hands eagerly reached for it.

"Well, it's a nice surprise," Sam said slowly, tilting his head and trying to catch Frodo's eye again as he bustled between stove and table. "Frodo?"

"Bilbo had his plate while I fed Fael," Frodo was saying. "He said he fancied an early night too."

A light began to dawn and Sam looked down at Fael contentedly draining his bottle, then back up to Frodo's averted face. "My favourite dinner," he mused. "Nice hot bath, early night for Bilbo..." He cast Frodo a teasing glance. "Am I being seduced, love?"

Frodo stilled, bent over the pot in the middle of the table, then he looked up through his fringe of umber curls and smiled, slightly.

"Only if you want to be."

Sam's heartbeat began to speed up at that look, soft and warm and inviting all at once. But not demanding, not urgent. Gentle, but strong, like Frodo himself. Sam wondered if Frodo knew what he could do to him, with just that look.

"Sounds like a fine plan," Sam managed, surprised to hear his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat as Frodo smiled a little more widely then sat down at the table opposite.

"Fael's sticking to his part of the plan," he murmured, and looking down Sam saw soft little starfish hands growing lax around the bottle, and wide blue eyes slitted and drowsy as the strong suckling gentled to a sleepy pull.

"Another minute and I'll lay him down," Sam whispered. He looked up at Frodo, still hearing the excited pound of his own heartbeat in his ears. "Tonight, love?"

Frodo's heart was in his own eyes. "Please," he whispered.

Just that pleading little demand set fire to Sam and he looked helplessly at the huge steaming pot of his favourite meal. "Will that keep for a while, d'you think?"

Frodo already had the lid in his hands. "Rabbit stew is famously better for sitting a spell," he declared shakily. Then he was at the door and Sam carefully stood, anxious not to waken the dozing babe.

In their bedroom Frodo was pulling back the covers on Fael's crib and Sam's breath grew even shorter at the picture he made wrapped in his warm dressing gown, hair still a little damp at the temples, skin glowing and fresh from his bath. And from excitement, Sam realised as his sensitive nose caught a whiff of his love as he laid the baby in his cradle.

"Time to use your wonderful new screen," Frodo murmured as he drew it across.

Sam had to blush. He'd only built the thing after Frodo's promise to take him and he remembered Frodo's helpless laughter as he'd sheepishly presented it for his inspection. But it was a fine piece of craftsmanship, Sam admitted, even if he was admiring his own work.

Frodo was waiting by the bed and Sam took a step closer, a little nervousness mixed in with his anticipation. He wanted this, oh how he wanted it. But the last weeks Fael had been teething and they had been tired and the days had just slipped past. How glad he was that Frodo had taken the decision into his hands!

With a sigh Frodo was wrapping arms around him and Sam melted as he always did at the touch. It seemed so natural, so right, this wonder of their love. To come together like this seemed so obvious now Sam wondered that he had gone so much of his life without even thinking about it.

"Come to bed, love," Frodo murmured. "There's something I want to show you."

Thinking he knew what Frodo meant Sam let himself be lead, watching the other hobbit extinguish the lamps one by one until there were only the two burning, the tiny one by Fael's crib, illuminating the fine carved screen, and the one by their bed. Sam felt Frodo stop and let himself be urged onto the bed. Nerves and excitement jangling in equal measure Sam climbed between the crisp sheets and scooted over.

"I remember hearing about something ages ago," Frodo whispered lowly, cuddling up to Sam's side, one hand smoothing over his broad chest. "And it made me curious at the time. But I quite forgot it I think, as the years passed. It's only lately I've been thinking on it again, and wondering... Sam...?"

Wondering why Frodo was talking when all he wanted now were kisses, Sam snuggled closer and hummed. "Hm?"

"Stop me if I do something you don't like, all right?"

Here it comes, Sam thought, hands gripping at Frodo for a moment. He forced himself to relax. This was going to be good, he knew it. This was Frodo next to him now, Frodo who would soon be on top of him, inside him... It would be very very good.

But Frodo wasn't in any hurry to climb on top of Sam. Instead he stroked Sam's chin with his fingers then turned his head, smiling softly into Sam's eyes, before leaning forward for a kiss. Happy to oblige Sam met the kiss eagerly, closing his eyes as Frodo took the lead, tongue softly rasping, head angling and pressing him back into the pillow.

How different it felt, Sam marvelled drowsily, to be the kissed rather than the kisser. How sensual and wonderful to lay back and let Frodo nip gently at his lips, stroke kisses down his chin, suckle briefly at his neck.

"Oh, Frodo," he murmured, feeling his senses spinning and his head all over the place. He wanted to find words, to tell Frodo how good this was, how right, but when Frodo lifted his head and asked him in a murmur if he was all right Sam could only nod and tug Frodo's lips back to that spot on his neck, yes, that was it, right there.

His robe was being gently parted and Sam automatically shifted. He hadn't even realised he was still wrapped in it! Now Frodo's talented mouth was skimming his chest and Sam's nipples began to throb in anticipation. Sometimes Frodo had kissed or stroked him there in the past but somehow his body just knew that tonight it would be different, and sure enough after just the lightest kiss Frodo's mouth was touching him there, licking him there, suckling, just hard enough there to make him arch.

Who would have known that part of him was so sensitive? Sam tangled his fingers in Frodo's curls and tugged those lips over to his neglected nipple and Frodo was laughing softly against him for a moment, even the puffs of his breath enough to harden the small nub and make it throb.

Other parts of Sam were hardening too and suddenly he was impatient for more. Once he might have been too shy to ask but now it was more like a demand as he tugged not so gently on tumbled curls and lifted his head to press a hard kiss on swollen lips.

"More," he half growled and now the soft and gentle touches made way for a firmer grip as Frodo pulled away from gripping hands and bent back over Sam's body, those maddening lips now on his breast, his belly, that white sensitive crease at the top of his leg.

He wanted Frodo's hand on him, Frodo's weight on him, Frodo's body pressing him into the mattress providing that delicious friction that would escalate this pleasure and bring it to its crescendo.

But instead he got one moment of frustrating emptiness as Frodo pulled away from him... And then white hot heat around the hardness that had him arching again, eyes flying open in disbelief.

"Frodo!" he exclaimed hoarsely, but this time Frodo didn't pull back and ask him if he was all right. This time Frodo's head bobbed and his burning mouth took Sam deeper and then there were no more words as Sam pushed his head back into the pillow and gave into the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

It felt like forever although it was actually an embarrassingly short time before Sam was convulsing and Frodo was again kissing his way over Sam's body, making his way back to his lips. Sam's eyes felt like they were rolling back into his head and that he was beyond even one coherent word, let alone an actual movement. Then Frodo pressed their lips together and Sam tasted himself there. With a gasp he found the strength to move, wrapping both arms around his lover and dragging him close.

"You... I... it..." Sam managed. "Why?"

"Why what?" Frodo murmured ardently, pressing kisses to his lips and jaw.

Sam tried to gather his thoughts, Frodo was hot and hard against him, his own body was languid and lax, his hands still heavy where they stroked Frodo's back. "Why did you wait so long?" was all he could think of to say in the end.

Frodo huffed another chuckle, his hands skimming down Sam's body in a way that made the hobbit's eyes open wide. "I wanted you all nice and relaxed," he whispered.

Sam spread his legs and shifted down a bit, his body instinctively knowing what to do. "Then do it, love," he said tenderly. "For if I was any more relaxed I'd melt right into this bed."

Hands shaking Frodo caught Sam's sturdy thighs and pressed them back, his eyes wildly excited in the dimness.

"Stop me if I hurt you," he warned, pressing against Sam, but Sam couldn't and wouldn't have stopped him for the world. Despite his relaxed state there was some little pain along with the pressure, but Frodo went slowly, his breath hitching with every stop, his fine pale skin flushed and simmering.

"Oh, Sam," he moaned at last when he was settled deep within in him.

Sam's hand stroked up Frodo's sides, feeling the delicious pressure and the tender weight of Frodo pressing him down. He was full of Frodo, and the very thought was almost as exciting as the act. Frodo was quivering above him and Sam gripped him hard and drew him down.

"Do it," he begged and Frodo needed no more encouragement than that.

~***~

Midnight found them cross legged on the bedroom rug, devouring bowls of Frodo's fine rabbit stew.

"Are you sure you're all right, Sam?" Frodo asked half anxiously as Sam shifted a little.

"You should know," Sam reminded him. "You've been where I am now more'n once. How was it for you?"

"A little tender," Frodo admitted. "But not enough to be called painful. It gets easier," he volunteered, then looked self conscious. "That is, if you want to do it again."

"I do," Sam confirmed instantly. "Right now if I thought either of us was up to it."

Frodo grinned in relief and helped himself to another ladle full of stew. "I can't believe I was so nervous," he said cheerfully.

"And I," Sam said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "Can't believe you knew how to do something like that all this time and didn't try it before."

"I didn't know how to do it!" Frodo denied. "I just heard about it, that's all."

"From where?"

Frodo shrugged, mouth full. "No idea," he managed. "It was ages ago." He shot Sam a teasing glance. "I'd quite forgotten it until recently. Then once I started thinking about it I couldn't get it off my mind."

"I don't think I'll be getting it off my mind any time soon either." Sam nudged Frodo's shoulder and the other hobbit blushed a little. Sam leaned closer. "I can't wait to try it for myself," he murmured and Frodo blushed even harder and nudged him back.

"Me either," he confided.

"You know," Sam said pensively. "Not so long ago I'd have said I knew everything about you and me, and yet here we are still learnin' new things about each other. "D'you think it will always be like that?"

"I expect so," Frodo said comfortably. "I know you as well as I know myself, love, but you're a constant surprise and amazement to me!"

"I am?" said Sam, astonished. "Me?"

Frodo snorted, covering his mouth to stifle his laughter and casting a look at the cradle where Fael still lay sleeping sweetly. "Of course you," he chuckled quietly. "Who else?"

"I'm not the one hiding his light under a bushel," Sam pointed out, nodding back towards their tumbled bed clothes.

"No?" Frodo said archly. "Dragging me off to be healed whether I liked it or not?"

"Well," Sam began, but Frodo wasn't nearly done.

"Standing up to Lord Elrond and a famous healer like Nestadren?"

"I wouldn't say I stood up to them," Sam said uncomfortably. "I might have pointed out a few things-"

"Facing wild elves with naught but a stone in your hand."

"Oh, well-"

Frodo scooted an inch or so closer and wrapped his arm around Sam's sturdy waist.

"Loving me," he said in a whisper and Sam was silenced.

"Every day you surprise me, love," Frodo said, laying his head on Sam's shoulder and feeling Sam's cheek rest on his crown. He half closed his eyes, contentment flooding him. "Every day I love you more."

"No more'n I love you, my dearest Frodo," Sam said thickly. "Which doubtless should of surprised me, but never ever did."

Frodo smiled sleepily, thinking they should probably move to their bed but too full with rabbit stew and love to bother. It seemed Sam was of the same mind, they snuggled close in their cosy little room with their baby snoring softly a few feet away, and watched the moonlight shadows move slowly across the floor.

And looked forward to all the surprises ahead.


	10. Journey

1421 S.R

September 29th - noon

_”You know, Frodo my lad, your Sam practically dragged me back to the Shire."_

_"Did he, Uncle?"_

_"Hmm. But you know what? I'm delighted he did. I wouldn't have missed these days with your new little family for all the world."_

_"I'm glad, Bilbo. So glad."_

~***~

Sam sat cross legged on the soft grass, holding Fael's little hands as he bobbed up and down. Usually all his attention would be fixed on his son when they were playing, but today his mind was elsewhere.

Fael tugged hard and his hands came free; he sat down with a bump on his well padded bottom, looking briefly surprised.

"Oh dear." Sam reached out to help him back up but Fael was already leaning forward and on his knees, crawling to his father he gripped his trousers and pulled himself back to his feet.

"Clever lad," Sam praised. Then he was holding his breath as with a fierce frown of concentration Fael let go his grip and stood standing squarely on his downy little feet. At the last moment Sam scooped him up into his arms and Fael wriggled and squeaked in protest.

"Da da da!" he objected strenuously, but Sam only held him close and kissed his silky curls.

"Not yet, my lad," he whispered. "You save your first steps for when your Frodo-dad is here to see them." He looked out down the long road that lead to the sea. "Happen he'll need some cheering up by then."

~***~

Nine days earlier.

"There's no need for you to come, Sam," Frodo said practically, running an eye over his packed gear. "It's a long trip for Fael."

"Fael's made longer," Sam said stoutly. "We want to be there for you."

Frodo looked up and smiled at him. "I know you do," he said gently. "But I'm all right, love, I really am. I know it's time for Bilbo to go."

"But it's not just Bilbo is it? It's Gandalf too. It's..." Sam broke off, not even sure what he wanted to say. This date had been looming for ages now, and every day Sam had seen Frodo's mood grower darker, watched his thoughts turn inwards. Something was coming to an end and Sam was all too aware that if things had been just a little bit different he'd have been saying goodbye to the other half of his heart at the end of this journey.

He wondered if Frodo thought much about that as well.

But Frodo was just shaking his head, already pulling away from the conversation. "At least this time I get to say good bye," he said quietly. "I might just nip down and make sure the ponies will be ready for the morning. I won't be long."

And then he was gone, striding out of the house and down the front path, taking the stone steps two at a time.

~***~

September 29th - noon

_"I miss you both already."_

_"I won't tell you not to cry, my friends. Not all tears are an evil. But I will tell you not to waste time looking back. Not when you have so much to look forward to."_

_"Gandalf."_

_"Be happy, Frodo."_

_"Bilbo..."_

~***~

Sam sighed and leaned back against his pack, looking around the sunny clearing. It was odd how a little baby always seemed to take up more packing space than an adult. Warm clothes, because the night were turning a bit cool. Extra napkins, bibs, toys. A fine waistcoat and his best jacket to wear on the day...

And yet when it had come down to it Sam had been unable to do it. He'd been unable to take Fael to that grey, lonely place.

~***~

September 29th - dawn

"You've come all this way and you'll go no further?" Frodo said in astonishment. "It's only a few hours away!"

"I know," Sam said with a shiver, pulling his coat up around his neck as the mist tendrilled breeze whirled around his ankles. "And I meant to come all the way with you, love, I really did." He glanced over at Fael, still snugly asleep in his little wooden cradle. "But in the end I can't take Fael to that sad grey place."

"You keep calling it that," Frodo said tersely, buttoning up his own coat with jerking movements. "But it's just a place, Sam, like any other. It's the occasion that's sad, not the place."

Sam bit his lip. He never had told Frodo about his dreams of the Havens. Never had told him his fears about this journey either come to that. But that was all nonsense, wasn't it? The Frodo who would have made that last long journey had been ill and heart sore, the Frodo standing before him now swirling his cloak around his shoulders was as well as any hobbit could be. The sunshine was in his eyes...

Except lately the sun had been behind dark clouds of memory. And despite himself Sam was worried.

"Frodo?" Gandalf called from the front of the cart and Frodo waved a hand at him.

"A moment, Gandalf." He turned to Sam and faced him, traces of a frown on his brow. "Did you say your good byes then?"

Sam nodded, his heart in his throat. If only he was better with words! If only he could make Frodo understand what he was feeling. But it seemed he'd gotten too used to the wordless communication they had developed between them over the last year and a half. Surely not so long ago Frodo would have looked and understood how Sam was feeling?

"And they kissed Fael goodbye last night," Sam said softly. Frodo only nodded and turned to his pony but at the last minute Sam couldn't let him go like that. He rushed forward, stepping around Frodo and standing squarely before him.

"We'll be waiting right here for you," he said steadfastly.

Was it his imagination? Did Frodo hesitate before he nodded? Were his eyes already distant as he cast one glance at his baby still sweetly asleep in his crib?

Sam couldn't tell.

~***~

September 29th - afternoon

Yes, once they would have communicated without words. But poor Frodo had enough on his mind without worrying about his lover's foolish fears.

And so Sam was left here, only able to imagine the last few miles of that journey, the wide dark blue waters of the harbour, the sleek elven ships. Closing his eyes he could see the birds wheeling in the sky above him, hear their mournful cries upon the wind. The clear memories of the dream came back to him then, the profound longing for peace, the dreamy need for sleep. The inevitable journey and the warm rest waiting at the end of it.

Fael was patting his face and cooing at him, and Sam opened his eyes and focused blearily on the baby still held tight in his arms. Fael's little round face was screwing up, his mouth turned down.

"Da da," he said mournfully and Sam sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

"Don't you worry, my hinny," he said firmly, bussing a kiss on an apple cheek. "Your da's got himself all in a dither over nothin'! Silly beggar that I am sittin' here worryin' about old dreams, when our Frodo will be ridin' back here soon enough, and us with only a cold camp waitin'!

He jumped to his feet and tossed Fael in the way he liked and the baby squealed happily and gripped his fathers caramel curls with chubby little fingers.

"You help your da collect some more firewood and when our heart sore family come ridin' back in at least they'll have some warm broth in their bellies, hmm?"

Understanding only that his beloved da was asking him a question Fael nodded firmly, and as was his habit these days just as firmly said: "No!"

Chuckling Sam kissed his cheek again and lingered for a moment, their cheeks close together, breathing in his baby's scent. "Ah, Fael," he murmured. "You're as silly as your old da, and that's sayin' somethin'!"

~***~

Night had fallen and the stars were already twinkling before Sam heard the distant sound of harness and the clopping of a ponies firm tread. He stood up by the fire and squinted into the moonlit road, heart pounding heard despite his best resolve. Two ponies, each with a rider, and there Gandalf's old cart, and then Sam could sigh out the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, because Frodo rode up on the cart, clicking to the horse as he wheeled it to a stop.

Fael was safe in his crib and Sam rushed forward to help unharness the horse as Frodo jumped down from the cart and stood for a weary moment, leaning against its side.

"All right?" Sam asked anxiously, but Frodo only nodded and began to help with the buckles.

"We lingered long to watch the ship," Merry said lowly from the other side of the horse as his nimble fingers pulled the traces free and scratched automatically at the big horses neck. It whinnied gratefully.

Merry nodded over to where Pip was leaning against his pony, head bowed in sorrow, arms still gripping the saddle.

"It was hard in the end," he said, his voice hoarse, and in the flickering firelight Sam could see his swollen eyes and the tracks of tears on his cheeks.

"You three sit down," he ordered firmly, leading the horse away to the small stream and loosely hobbling it there. "There's soup in the pot and bowls with warm crusty bread laid out."

Merry just stood helplessly as Frodo paced to the fire and sat down, staring into the flames.

"I'm not even hungry," he said blankly, and then shivered. "I'm tired though."

Sam cast an anxious look at Frodo but spared a kind hand for Merry's shoulder. "Your beds are all laid out too," he said quietly, leading the unresisting hobbit nearer the warmth. "Lay down and rest your eyes for a while, maybe you'll be hungry later on."

Merry gazed blankly at Sam's face for a moment and then seemed to shake himself. "Dear Sam," he said thickly. "What would we do without you?"

He took charge of Pippin then, leading him unresisting to their bedrolls and laying him down on one, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Then while Sam watched he dragged his own bed closer and tucked himself by Pip's side, wrapping one arm around him and bringing fair tousled curls to rest under his chin. Pip's hands came up and clutched Merry, and he started to cry into his older cousin's neck. Sam turned away and swiftly dealt with their ponies.

"Frodo?" he murmured, coming to sit down by his love. "Could you eat?"

Frodo shook his head. "Not yet," he managed, his voice hoarse.

Sam took him by the shoulders as Merry had with Pip and led him over to their bed. "Then lay down, love," he advised, his heart aching. Obediently, almost blindly Frodo curled up on his side.

"And look, here's your baby," Sam said, lifting a sleeping Fael from his cradle and tucking him into the curve of Frodo's chest. "He's all warm and sleepy and waitin' for you."

Frodo's hand crept out and curled over Fael, stroking over the soft little shawl he was wrapped in and resting on his pointed little chin.

"That's right, love," Sam said sadly. "You hold our lad close tonight. You remind yourself why you're here with us and not sailing away over the sea with them."

Frodo tucked Fael closer against him, then frowned and blinked. "Sam?"

"Shh," Sam murmured, laying himself down and wrapping strong arms around them both. "You just sleep, love. I promise you'll feel better come mornin'."

~***~

September 30th - dawn

When Sam awoke it was to the sounds of birdsong and a perfect September day. The sun was already burning off the mist of the night and he could tell it was going to be a warm one. In a brief moment of panic he remembered Fael but a quick glance showed him the baby sitting on his blanket, briskly shaking his little wooden ring, chuckling as the carved circles of wood within shook and settled back into place.

"Hungry?" Frodo was sitting by the fire, stirring the embers with a stick, coaxing the flames back to life. Merry and Pip still dozed in their bed, heads close together.

With a yawn and a stretch Sam sat up, knuckling sleep gritty eyes. "I could eat," he admitted, clearing his morning rough throat. He focused on Frodo's back, wishing he would turn so he could see his face. "What about you? Did you get any sleep?"

"Some." Frodo ladled some of the soup from the night before into a bowl and picked up a crusty bread roll. He carried it over and held it out, but Sam reached instead for his wrist and held him still, peering up into his eyes.

"Frodo?"

Frodo huffed a small sigh and then focused on him briefly and Sam felt his heart sink. The clouds were back.

Frodo gently pulled his arm free. "Merry, Pippin," he called out. "It's time you were up and about. I want to strike camp and get moving." He looked around the sunny clearing, his eyes blank. "I want to get home."

The other two hobbits seemed better this morning, although they were uncharacteristically quiet as they washed their faces and tucked into second helpings of soup. They sat close, side by side.

"How long does it take then?" Pip wondered sadly, nibbling at the last of his bread. "Are they there already?"

Merry nudged his shoulder fondly. "Does it matter? They're not here."

Sam tried to catch Frodo's eye but he was lifting Fael's cradle and packing it into the back of the cart. How did it feel to him, looking at that empty spot where he had sat cuddled next to Bilbo this time yesterday? How did it feel to be mounting Gandalf's old cart, where once the ancient wizard had ridden from village to village, the back laden with fireworks?

And what was he thinking as he clicked to the horse and they set off down the long road towards home? Why wouldn't he look at him?

~***~

September 30th - noon

They stopped for lunch and to stretch their legs, and Sam sat Fael down on a patch of soft grass. His mind had been spinning all morning, wondering what was going on. Had he really thought that worst of it would be over by now? He'd expected grief from Frodo, but not this... coldness.

Was Frodo angry with him for not being there? After all Sam had insisted that he come, overriding Frodo's advice. And then at the last minute when his love had needed him he'd left him alone, to suffer the weight of that grief without support.

Or was something darker on Frodo's mind? In those last moments watching those he loved step on board that ship had he perhaps been tempted to follow? Did he regret the ties that held him back?

Did he regret his wish at last?

Now Sam felt near to tears as Pip and Merry wandered away for a walk and Frodo stood by the bank of the little stream that wound along the side of the road. Sam wanted to speak but he was afraid to open his mouth for fear of howling.

"I might stretch my legs as well," Frodo said indifferently.

"We'll come too," Sam offered but Frodo shook his head sharply.

"I just want a moment alone," he said, his voice rough, eyes averted. "Can't you leave me alone for one minute?"

Stricken Sam collapsed back onto the sward, tears springing to his eyes now and falling down his face. But Frodo was already striding away and didn't see.

~***~

Sam wiped at the tears on his cheeks and pulled out his hanky for a blow, not wanting Fael to see him crying again and get upset. He was frightened now, almost out of his mind. Something was wrong between them, badly wrong, and in his clumsy way he was only making it worse. Frodo was suffering now, down deep in his heart. Of course he wanted to be left alone to settle himself a bit.

But the hook in his own heart was digging deep and Sam had to wipe his eyes again as he weakly shed a few more tears. Why should Frodo want to be alone now though, when for so long he'd had Sam to turn to when he was sore or afraid?

Fael crawled over to him and demanded some attention and Sam sniffed again and thrust his hanky back into his pocket. Well but if Frodo wanted to walk away here and shed some private tears there was nothing Sam could do to stop him. But once they were home and he was able he'd follow right after his love and remind him quick smart that he didn't have to be alone in his grief any more. They shared the same heart now, that's what he'd remind him, even if he had to tackle him to the ground and sit on him to make him listen.

Fael had dragged himself upright and was again practising his standing, letting go his plump little fingers and swaying on the spot, jabbering excitedly for his father's attention.

"Da da da!" he shouted and even through his anguish Sam could find a smile for such crowing pride.

"There's my clever lad," he praised huskily. "But mind what I told you yesterday. You hold those first steps until your dad is here to see them."

"Do you think his dad deserves them?"

Sam jerked his head up, hope lighting in his heart at the rueful tones. It wavered a bit when he saw the swollen eyes and the tracks of fresh tears, but then Frodo's chin was quivering and his eyes, clear and shiny now, appealed to him.

"I hope you think he still deserves it," Frodo beseeched and without another thought Sam was holding out his arm and his love was flying to him, crowding against his side, tumbled russet curls buried under his chin.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he was weeping, but heart full and eased Sam only patted his shaking shoulders with work worn hands.

"It's all right, love," he whispered, but Frodo was shaking his head now, fiercely.

"It's not all right," he said, pulling back and gazing at him with eyes so blue they took Sam's breath away all over again. "I said awful things, and I didn't mean them! The minute I was alone like I wanted I knew it wasn't what I wanted at all, and I called myself a darn fool!"

Sam reached up and cupped Frodo's dear face, one blunt thumb smoothing a tear damp cheek. "I know you're hurtin', love," he said carefully. "Somethin' fierce. But you know you can come to me when you're hurt, don't you? Like I come to you?"

Frodo curled into his side and Sam cuddled him close, sparing a glance for Fael, who was back on his thickly padded bottom, ripping up handfuls of grass. In a parent's automatic gesture Sam guided one plump fistful away from the child's mouth.

"I do know that," Frodo insisted, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder. "I know you're always there for me, love. I just wasn't thinking clearly, that's all."

Sam slanted him a glance and Frodo met his eyes, apology clear in them.

"It wasn't you, Sam," he admitted lowly. "It was me. Saying goodbye to Bilbo and Gandalf... I thought I was ready for the grief, I really did."

"I should've been there with you," Sam berated himself, but Frodo was shaking his head.

"It wouldn't have mattered," he said sadly. "That feeling that crept over me, there on that dock... There was no escaping that feeling."

"Did you-" Sam broke off, unsure of the words even now. He knew in his heart Frodo wouldn't have left them, no matter what he felt. But was some part of him... "Did you wish you were goin' with them?" he finally managed all in a rush and Frodo lifted his head and gazed at him, open mouthed in amazement.

"No!" he said in shocked tones. "Sam, oh, Sam, is that what you thought?" Blue eyes filled with tears again and Sam squeezed him tighter in dismay.

"No, love, of course not," he hastened to reassure. "It's just, when you pushed me away like..." He shrugged, awkwardly. "I couldn't help remembering all the times I dreamed of that sad grey place. And in my dreams..." Sam met damp blue eyes fearfully. "In my dreams you were sailing away, Frodo, but you was smilin' at me. Like you was glad and eased to go. And my heart was breakin'..."

"Oh, Sam." Now Frodo held him close and Fael was snuggling into his lap, sniffling and calling for his da in comfort.

Frodo scooped him up and cuddled him between them. "It's all right, Fael," he murmured, letting the baby rest against his chest and patting his back. "Da and I are all right." He patted Sam's back with his other hand and Sam could feel himself relaxing under that soothing touch. "You never told me you dreamed of the Havens," Frodo murmured.

"I didn't want to worry you," Sam confessed. "And I haven't dreamt of them more'n a few times since Fael was born. Since you was healed."

"Neither have I," Frodo told him. "And even when I did dream I was never glad to leave you, Sam. If I was smiling in your dream it was just to hide my own heart breaking."

"Then you weren't wishin' you'd sailed with them?" Sam asked again, just to hear the answer out loud.

"No, Sam," Frodo obliged him. "It was just grief making me foolish today. And guilt," he confessed.

"Guilt?"

"Saying goodbye to my past was hard and painful." Frodo sighed and glanced for a moment at the bright blue sky, blinking back more tears. "For a long time Bilbo and Gandalf were the two people I loved most in the world. Before you and Fael."

Sam nodded.

"But coming back to you and our baby, heading back to our happy home... Suddenly I felt torn. As if it were too easy to leave them, as if I didn't care enough. Being so happy to be with you, our long happy lives all before us... Oh, does this make sense?"

Pressing a kiss to a damp cheek Sam nodded again. "Course it does," he said firmly.

Frodo laid his hand against the place Sam had kissed, cheeks creasing in a small, wistful smile. "Gandalf always said the story goes on and on," he recalled. "Which is a sad and a happy thought."

"Because the story's going on without them," Sam agreed. "I remember a few weeks after my mam died. I laughed out loud for the first time. I felt so guilty!" he remembered.

"But she wouldn't have wanted you to be sad forever." Frodo squeezed him tightly. "And the last thing Bilbo said to me was to be happy." He quirked a slightly wider smile. "I just forgot that for a little bit, that's all."

"It's all right to forget." Sam squeezed him back. "So long as you remember again. I'll remind you," he promised.

"Will you, Sam?" Frodo turned serious eyes to him again but Sam could see now that the clouds were gone, blown clean away. They were still a little shiny with tears, and grief still lurked there, but he was himself again, and all and everything to his Sam.

"Always," Sam swore, with all his heart, and was rewarded with another smile.

Fael decided he was bored with sitting and demanded with a wail to be set back down.

Sam caught ahold of him and gave Frodo a wink. "Watch this now, our lad's been savin' something up to show you. Scoot back a little."

Frodo shifted back a little way and Sam turned Fael and let himself steady his small downy feet on the grass.

"Look, Fael! There's dad! D'you see him?"

"Dadadad!" Fael said excitedly, reaching out his hands.

"There's my lad!" Frodo praised, holding his own two hands out. "Come to dad, Fael! Come to daddy!"

A frown knit Fael's brow and he braced himself, clever little eyes measuring the distance and deciding to test it. With one wavering step he was leaning forward and Sam lifted his hands away and let him take it. He tottered the first step, then the second to show it wasn't a fluke, then, just showing off now he managed a third. The last few steps were more of a forward fall than actual walking, but no one was pointing that out as Frodo scooped him up and lifted him high into the sky.

"That's my lad!" he crowed and Fael kicked his little legs as if he couldn't wait to be back on the ground and trying it again.

"What's the fuss about?" Merry called from the woods.

"Come quick!" Sam called. "Fael's taken it into his head to start walkin'!"

"Already?" Pippin said amazed, rushing up and patting the baby's back. "He's a quick learner like his Uncle Pippin!"

"Put him down, see if he can do it again!" Merry urged.

Fael grinned and wriggled his toes, a smug grin on his little face.

"Of course he can do it again," Sam said scornfully. "He'll be runnin' everywhere afore we know it!"

Frodo chuckled and shook his head ruefully. "We might soon enough be longing for the days when he could only crawl," he grinned.

"No holding back this lad," Sam announced, and of course even as he said it he knew he was right.

After all, the story goes on and on...

The End


	11. Epilogue

December 1426 S.R

Fael tugged at Frodo's knee and began to climb him like a tree. The hobbit helped, lifting the sturdy little child onto his lap and hugging him close. Fael snuggled his curls under his father's chin and yawned, long lashes fluttering over wide blue eyes.

"Tell me a story, daddy?"

Frodo smiled and kissed the golden curly crown. "What story would you like, my sunshine? A dragon tale? Or one from your Great Uncle Bilbo's book?"

"Tell me the story of how I was borned," Fael decided.

Frodo shot Sam a smile and the other hobbit winked back at him through a cloud of smoke. "That's one of my favourites," Sam said, tugging his pipe from between his teeth. "Go on, Frodo."

"Well let's see."

Fael leaned back with a happy sigh, settling under his father's arm.

"Once upon a time your old dad was poorly. Poorly as can be."

"Because you were a hero and saved the world, right, daddy?"

"Who's telling this story?" Frodo demanded, eyes twinkling. Fael huffed a sigh and settled back again.

"There were lots of heroes, Fael," Frodo continued. "Your da and I played a small part it's true. And I was made ill because of it."

Fael's little face was serious and Frodo couldn't resist kissing a perfect little nose. It wrinkled and the small hobbit smiled, showing off his even white teeth.

"Anyway, I was feeling so poorly that the elves even invited me to sail away with them to their far off land, where I wouldn't be sick any more."

Sturdy little arms wrapped around his neck and Fael's big blue eyes looked into his sombrely. "You'd have been ever so lonely without us, wouldn't you daddy?"

Frodo nodded solemnly. "Ever so lonely," he agreed. He exchanged another look with Sam and smiled softly again at the steady look of love that was always there. "But your da wasn't having any of that, my lad. No sir!"

"He took you to the elves, didn't he daddy!" Fael exclaimed, glad to get past the saddest bit of the story.

"He did that," Frodo agreed. "And who should be there but an elf who thought he knew just the right way to heal me. It was like a tale in a storybook."

"But it was true," Fael said in satisfied tones. "Uncle Nestad."

"That's right. Your dear Uncle Nestadren cast a magical spell on me."

"Moon magic," Fael whispered thrillingly, eyes wide.

Frodo nodded solemnly. "That's right," he whispered back. "The magic of the new moon. And after he cast his fine spell, why your da and me made you together. Just like that!"

"But how?" Fael said as he always did at this part of the story. "How did you and da make me?"

"With love, my lad," Frodo answered as he always did. And when Fael opened his mouth to ask another question Frodo closed it with a smacking kiss. "And that's all young hobbitlings need know about that."

"For now," Sam murmured through his wreath of pipe smoke and Frodo grinned.

"Am I still telling this story?" he demanded and Fael and Sam both nodded. "Good. Where was I?"

"I'm in your tummy," Fael prompted. He squirmed around and patted Frodo's flat belly. "Did I really grow in there?" he asked curiously.

"That you did." Frodo's answer was fervent. "You grew and grew and kicked and kicked. And you must have been ever so hungry because I ate and ate and ate!"

"And ate!" Sam added emphatically and Frodo raised a brow.

"Er hem," he cleared his throat. "Anyway, there I was getting bigger and bigger and who should come to visit?"

"Uncle Leg'las and Uncle Gimli!" Fael shouted.

"Exactly. And your Uncle Legolas, wise elf that he is looked at me and knew right away."

"This is my favourite part," Fael confided.

"But your Uncle Gimli... Well, your da should tell this part. It's his favourite too."

Fael gazed at his da. "Go on, da. Tell the bit about Uncle Gimli's pipe!"

"Ah, his favourite pipe," Sam said as if just remembering. "Well, if I remember right old Legolas was already figuring out why Frodo was looking so plump and well. But Gimli, he thought it was all a joke, didn't he? So quick as you please your dad there unbuttons his shirt and shows off his tummy all round and full."

"Full with me," Fael boasted.

"And kickin' and squirmin' you were that day," Sam confirmed. "And your Uncle Gimli takes one look and says... There's a baby in that hobbit!"

Fael collapsed back against his dad's shoulder giggling madly.

"And then I said..."

"I know, I put it there," they all chorused together, and Fael laughed even harder.

"Then he bit his pipe, didn't he, da?" the hobbitling managed and Sam nodded.

"Crunch," he said. "Just like that."

"And that's when I got my name," Fael said, sighing happily. "My elf name."

"That's right." Frodo gathered him close again and laid another kiss on a curly crown. "Your Uncle Legolas closed his elf eyes and saw you all warm and safe curled up inside me. Shining like the sun you were."

"And still are," Sam said, nodding wisely.

"And then I was borned in a far away elf home," Fael said, leaning back against his father and suppressing another yawn. "I dream about it sometimes. Will I ever see it?"

"Some day, my lad," Frodo promised. "Your da and I will take you to see it."

Blue eyes were half closed and dreaming. "I can't wait," he yawned again.

Frodo squeezed him gently, his eyes soft. "Tired, Fael?"

"Uh uh," Fael denied, trying to open his blue eyes wider.

"I know what will wake you up," Sam said, standing up and stretching. "Hot crumpets."

Predictably Fael popped upright with an eager smile. "With lots of butter," he said, licking his lips.

"And hot cocoa," Frodo decided, standing up with his son still in his arms. "Who's up for that?"

"Me!" Sam and Fael chorused together.

And the little family headed to the warm cosy kitchen for their treat.

 

_“The Road goes ever on and on  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow, if I can,  
Pursuing it with eager feet,  
Until it joins some larger way  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
And whither then? I cannot say”_


End file.
